Forgotten Bonds
by Anthezar
Summary: Robin is kidnapped by Slade after the Red X incident. Unable to escape, Robin must endure the hardship under Slade's capture. After Robin is nearly beaten to death, Slade's friend intervenes on Robin's behalf and demands they start anew. But will the bond they begin to form tear down Robin's morals, or will it throw the old saying "Can't teach an old dog new tricks" out on its tail
1. Into the Darkness

**Forgotten Bonds**

**A Teen Titans Fanfiction**

**by Anthezar**

**Full Summary:** Robin; the Boy Wonder; ex-protégé of Batman the Dark Knight; leader of the Teen Titans; protector of Jump City, California; and civilian named Richard 'Dick' Grayson never imagined that certain decisions he'd make would have such a transcending impact in his life. What was a simple decision to go undercover and try to win the trust of his arch enemy, Slade, only ended up destroying the trust of his four best friends.

Not only that, the enigma Slade has his single eye on Robin and desires the Boy Wonder's abilities for himself. Kidnapped by the all powerful criminal, Robin cannot hope to escape and must endure the terrible hardship being under the man's capture. In the midst of his struggles to escape, Robin does something dangerously foolish and ends being harshly punished; beaten until unconscious. Angry at Robin's treatment, Slade's best friend, Wintergreen, intervenes on his behalf and demands that Slade change his tactic so that the two of them may start anew.

'_Who is Slade?_'

Will Robin be able to see past the stiff molds of Hero and Villain? Will he ever be able to see past the mask and see the true man behind it? And will the bond they begin to slowly form tear down Robin's morals; or will it throw the old saying "Can't teach an old dog new tricks" out on its tail?

A story of sorrow, of pain, of hope, and of change – the impossible tale between a Hero and a Villain, and that even the blackest of hearts have a glimmer of light within them.

**Genre:** Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Action, Friendship, Family

**Warnings:** Violence, physical abuse, and later on, mild corporal punishment – well, not mild for the one on the receiving end of it, but mild for the reader. Heh…

You've been forewarned~

Also, just to note: there will be no romance and this is **not slash** – _at all_.

**Author's Notes:** Credit and copyright goes to the original creators of the Teen Titans, Robin, Deathstroke, Batman, and the like. This work was only created for the sake of enjoyment, learning, and hopefully inspiration to all aspiring writers to attempt the impossible.

The only thing that is asked is that this work not be taken and claimed as your own in respect for all the hard work, countless hours, love, and dedication that went into this novel.

I truly hope that you enjoy this story. I know that I fully enjoyed writing it.

_Anthezar_

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**Chapter One**

**Into the Darkness**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 1:24 am.**

'_Who is Slade?'_

Robin laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his room from behind the safety of his domino mask. The darkness of the night surrounded him, yet offered no escape from his feelings or previous actions. The sentence constantly flittered through his mind, never ending; each word taunting and teasing him: _'Who is Slade?'_ Robin scowled at the ceiling and turned onto his side.

He had blown it.

How could he have been so stupid? Slade had easily seen through his plan – probably from the beginning even. Robin was right back where he had started with the man. But now, because of his stupidity, he had damaged the trust of his friends.

Trust.

Easy to destroy, but took time to build.

Slade had said that.

Robin definitely had destroyed his friends' trust. It had been so simple, so easy to do. Because of his obsession to find out who Slade was and his plans, Robin had blurred the line of right and wrong. He had stolen to gain Slade's trust.

That was what the plan had been. Don a criminal alter ego and offer himself in partnership to Slade. Robin had thought it was working out, but it fell apart before his very eyes – he had stolen for the man and hadn't told his friends the plan, thus destroying the very thing he cherished most.

He'd even created specialized weapons made out of an illegal, highly unstable and volatile chemical, Xenothium, to fight against his friends; a strong binding for Starfire to restrict her powers, a mouth covering for Raven against her incantations, a opener to enter the systems of Cyborg to shut him down, and a sticky, inescapable goop for Beast Boy to trap his transformations.

All for the sake of one goal.

"_Two wrongs don't make a right, Robin."_

Robin growled as the smooth, lecturing tone of Slade's voice flooded through the foremost of his thoughts. The growl came deep from within his throat – an almost feral noise. Irritation and anger rose up, burning his insides like lava.

How dare that psychopath lecture him! How dare he have the audacity to _lecture_ him – _him_, Robin; the Boy Wonder, hero of justice. Who the heck did he think he was to scold Robin, when the man himself was a criminal?! He had absolutely no right to point out Robin's mistakes. He'd only been trying to stop the madman.

That was all.

Honestly.

Robin let out a long sigh, the anger in his heart slipping away as easily as it came. He turned over onto his other side, sighing once again. He pulled the covers closer to his neck, burrowing deep beneath their warmth; his raven black bangs dangling over his forehead.

Psychopath or not, Robin couldn't help but admit that the man was right. Two wrongs did not make a right. He shouldn't have stolen those computer chips. He had been too impatient – just like Slade had chided over and over in that low annoying, smooth voice. If Robin had done it right, then he should've included the other Titans. But he hadn't. Thus, his friends were angry with him; hurt that he hadn't trusted them with his plan.

Maybe it would've worked had he included them in it.

But that was in the past now. He couldn't dwell on the what ifs anymore. He had to deal with his actions, now – the present. He had to regain the trust of his friends. Robin couldn't help but shiver beneath his covers, despite the warmth that blanketed him.

What if he couldn't rebuild what he had destroyed?

Cyborg and Beast Boy had totally reamed him out first. Their voices had been loud, furious, and indignant. Not that Robin could blame them. He definitely deserved their ire. He had broken their trust, after all.

Beast Boy had loudly and constantly complained with: "Dude! Why didn't you ask for help! I can't believe _you're_ the reason for my month of bad hair days!"

There were a few of: "I can't believe you couldn't trust us with this. Man, I honestly thought we were closer friends than that." from Cyborg.

Raven's one simple, monotone declaration had been a little quieter, but a much harder pill to swallow than the rest: "You are an idiot."

But it was Starfire's talk with him that had been the real stab in the heart: "We did learn one thing from all this. You and Slade are… similar. He did not trust you and you did not trust us."

Just how stupid could he get?!

Robin rolled onto his back and resumed his scowling at the ceiling. Depression settled into his heart and began to weigh down heavily against his chest. His eyes burned, but Robin knew there would be no tears. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly; hoping that, perhaps, tears would come to wash away the terrible sin he had committed against his friends.

How long would it be before he could regain their trust?

It was because of his obsession with Slade that he had made this poor choice. Robin had been impatient and determined to discover and stop Slade's plan. He had pushed away his friends; alienated them in his complete obsession. He admitted it. He had been—was, still even now, completely obsessed.

But he had to be.

Slade was a dangerous man – a dangerous criminal. Robin just couldn't let a man like that loose in the city. People might get hurt because of him. What if he was planning a mass murder? Or what if he was going to try to bring the whole city under his command. What if—

Robin sighed again, forcing his thoughts to stop. It was bedtime – he should be sleeping, not brooding over a madman.

Robin supposed he obtained his work ethic from Bruce. During the five years that he had been the man's ward, Robin had rarely – if ever – seen the man take a leisurely rest. Usually Alfred, the aged British butler, had to drag the man to bed during those intense times when he had a big case.

But someone had to do it.

Someone had to protect the citizens. Someone had to protect the innocents from those nut jobs that decided they could go crazy in the streets. Someone had to protect the people from aliens, demons, metahumans, or whoever got it into their head that they were above the law.

It was Robin's duty to protect those innocent people.

Well, he liked to think that, anyways. Truthfully, he felt terribly burdened by it. He was just a fourteen year old kid. Honestly, he should just be hanging out with friends; his only worries: acne problems, grades, and girls.

Instead, there was a heavy weight and burden on his shoulders – the weight of peoples' lives.

While he enjoyed his crime fighting, sometimes he did wish for the normal moments. Here in Jump City, he never let up on the persona of Robin. He was Robin, the Boy Wonder, twenty-four seven. Ever since he had left Bruce, left Gotham City behind, he had also left behind his first identity.

Richard 'Dick' Grayson, son of John and Mary Grayson.

None of his friends knew his real name. They didn't know he had been a well known circus acrobat with his parents. They didn't know that his parents had been murdered right before his eyes when he was only seven years old; trapeze wires sabotaged so that his parents fell to their deaths. They didn't know he was taken in by Bruce Wayne, the playboy billionaire of Gotham City.

They didn't know that even with Bruce's altruistic kindness, Dick had felt the loneliness nearly suffocate him; almost drowning him in its terrible weight. While he was extremely thankful to Bruce for taking him in when he'd had no one else, the man wasn't exactly father material. Maybe a wiser, stern older brother; but definitely not a father.

And when he learned that Bruce Wayne was really the Dark Knight of Gotham City, the cold, aloof Batman that every villain feared, Dick had relished in his role as Robin. He had been eager to push away the bitter loneliness that his parents' deaths had left him with.

His friends also didn't know why he had left Batman and Gotham City behind to flee across the country to Jump City of the west coast.

What they didn't know could fill a library.

They only knew "Robin". Robin: strong leader, outgoing personality, brave, focused to a detriment, determined, driven, enjoyed video games, told terrible puns, hung out with his friends, loved to do pranks, and kicked bad guy butt like no tomorrow.

Dick, on the other hand, was a bit introverted. In fact, at times, the quite opposite to Robin. Dick was somewhat timid, shy, _loved_ hugs and affection, highly sensitive, gentle, mischievous at times, avoided the limelight – despite his past work with his parents, wanted to please, hated contention, and wished for normalcy.

Robin wasn't sure if he remembered that boy anymore, though. That boy laid behind a mask that never came off – ever. If he took off the mask, would Dick surface once again? Would those unfiltered crystal blue eyes view the world in its purity? Would he blend with Robin's personality or would Robin disappear altogether when the mask came off? If he did, would the other Titans accept Dick?

But their trust had been shattered.

Could they honestly accept anything from him anymore?

Had he completely blown it with them? Could he really piece together the shattered shards of their trust? He couldn't blame them, if he couldn't. He certainly lost their trust through his actions – it was completely his fault. He didn't deserve their trust anymore.

Robin's throat constricted as he swallowed the dry lump that had built up inside. Gosh, he wanted to cry. His emotions were burning his eyes. But Robin didn't cry. Dick could and would – but Robin couldn't. He was the leader of the Teen Titans and he had to be strong for the group.

If he took off the mask, would the tears flow, then?

Robin let out a shuddering sigh as he sat up. The darkness was illuminated by a faint stream of light from the window; the glow of the moon the only light that came from night sky. The light shadowed the empty walls; the illusion of the darkness prevalent.

He couldn't sleep.

_I have to stop thinking like this,_ thought Robin bitterly. _I'll never get to sleep if I can't calm my thoughts down. _

Sighing, Robin pushed the warm covers away and threw his legs over the edge of his bed; his pajama pants twisting slightly. Might as well grab a midnight snack. Maybe some food in his stomach would bring sleep.

Robin set his sock covered feet onto the carpet and stood up. He moved quietly, a habit that had been ingrained in him during his time with Bruce. The shadows swallowed him easily. He walked into the other section of his room that had been walled off with a doorless opening.

Robin looked at the darkened walls. There were numerous newspaper clippings of criminals that he had plastered on their surfaces. Countless criminal faces seemed to sneer at him through the darkness, taunting him in his sleepless night. He shivered slightly as he thought, _Maybe I should do some cleaning tomorrow. All these faces staring at me… Totally giving me the creeps._

He slowly walked past his desk, ignoring the items of interest that he had collected from his fights with Slade. As he reached the door, he pressed the control button and the door slid open.

Destiny was such a curious force in life.

Sometimes it brought hope and happy times, while other times it brought the greatest of trials – trials that seemed like the heaviest burden of all, which felt as if it could crush the soul. Such moments sometimes felt so terrible, so discouraging, so hopeless.

But that was the crazy thing about life. Trials arose for everyone; but most of the time, they were viewed as annoyances – moments that wasted one's time. And while trials were always hard and challenging, sometimes the gifts or blessings that came forth in the end were worth more than all the jewels and wealth in the world.

Luckily, though, such times were never endured alone.

A gentle breeze fluttered through the room; trilling, lilting in a transcending, tender warmth – the prelude of changing destinies; the prelude of trials, yet the prelude of something ever so life altering in the grandest skies of hope.

"Hello, Robin. Couldn't sleep?"

Robin sucked in his breath and whirled around furiously, his eyes searching the darkness for the source of the voice – that _terrible_, smooth voice.

Gosh, he hated the way it sounded so smug.

"_Slade_," hissed Robin. "Show yourself!"

"You've been tossing and turning a lot tonight. You need better sleeping habits."

"Shut up!" snapped Robin, taking a step forward back into his darkened bedroom. The door slid closed behind him from inactivity. Robin couldn't see anything in the room; the darkness shielding Slade from his view.

"My, aren't we the disrespectful little boy. No matter. That's easily rectified."

"What are you playing at, Slade? Why are you here? Why are you spying on me?" demanded Robin. He felt naked without his utility belt; bare and unarmed before a dangerous enemy. He couldn't attack blindly in the dark without his weapons; so, he began to inch towards his end table in the other section of the room where his belt lay.

"Still so impatient, Robin. I had hoped that maybe you had learned something from our recent experience. Looks like I was wrong."

"There's nothing to learn from _you_," hissed Robin viciously.

"Now that's where you're wrong, Robin. I have a lot to offer. A lot to teach you."

Robin stopped and frowned in the darkness. What was this madman talking about? _'A lot to teach you.'?_ Wasn't Slade a criminal? Didn't he hate the Teen Titans for getting in his way? Didn't he want them dead, like all the other criminals? Why would he offer to 'teach' Robin?

"What are you talking about?" asked Robin, resuming his slow inching towards his belt. He slowly passed the dividing wall. There was a low chuckle.

"Have I said something that interests you, Robin? Good, because I'm offering you something that many would die for."

Slade's smooth voice was beginning to grate on Robin's nerves.

"Oh, like what?" drawled Robin.

"All my power, all my knowledge."

_Huh?_

"All for you. You just have to become my apprentice and swear to serve me."

_What…?_

Robin couldn't help but stop his advancement towards his end table, frozen by Slade's pronouncement.

He was offering… a partnership? Why would Slade offer something like that? What was Slade's motives? What did he want? What were his plans? What were his goals?

All the questions that had plagued Robin's mind and heart began to pour through him once again – all those questions that had led him to his terrible, foolish choice, which then broke the trust of his friends and blurred the line of right and wrong.

Was Slade really offering a partnership now after all this?

No…

No, that wasn't it. No, he was just like Batman. The man was offering the position of 'sidekick'. There was no way he'd be _partners _with Robin. There was just no way.

Robin gritted his teeth furiously.

He was sick of it. Totally sick of these men underestimating his abilities. He wasn't a sidekick – he was a _leader_. Robin was nobody's sidekick. No, he was the leader of the Teen Titans. He was powerful and strong in his own right.

Robin was a leader.

Although, Robin knew deep down the offer was tempting, _just a little_ – if he was honest with himself. This man was powerful – that much he knew and admitted. Robin had a frightening respect for the man's power, but he'd never admit it out loud to anyone. There were times where Robin felt dangerously drawn to the man; curious to what made the man tick; curious to know who lied behind that mask; curious to learn where he gained that power – but such feelings were quickly hidden because of where Slade's morals lied. But this man certainly had a lot to offer. He probably _could_ teach Robin a thing or two.

Too bad he was on the wrong side.

"Thanks for the offer, Slade. But no thanks," said Robin offhandedly with a broad smirk. He bolted towards his end table, his hand reaching for his belt.

He never made it.

A bladed hand sped through the darkness, connecting with Robin's neck. Stars erupted in his eyes as pain flared from the blow. He dropped to his hands and knees, gasping. Another attack connected with his stomach, causing him to smash into the side of his bed. With the wind completely knocked out of his stomach, Robin struggled to breathe.

"You're so cute, Robin. You honestly think you have a choice in this matter."

A groan of pain slipped from Robin's mouth. He could see Slade's metal boots in front of his eyes. He glanced upward; the dark man towering over him. Even in the darkness, Robin could feel the overpowering presence from this man.

Gosh, he hated being so short.

Robin coughed and gasped as he struggled to sit up; clutching his stomach with one arm as he pushed himself up with the other. He had to fight. He had to win. He couldn't let this man loose inside Titans Tower. His friends were in danger.

He had to protect them.

Another swift kick connected with his stomach. A muffled cry of pain escaped from Robin's lips before he could clamp his mouth shut. A hand grabbed Robin by the hair and jerked his head to look upward. He was forced to look into the face of the masked man – half orange on the right, half black on the left, with fours slits over his mouth for breathing. The only human feature visible was a grey blue left eye, surrounded by the orange of his mask.

The eye narrowed beneath the metal.

"Pathetic, Robin. I expected more of a struggle from you. Too bad your last night wasn't filled with pleasant memories with your friends."

Another blow smashed into Robin's head. Stars glimmered once again in his sight, slowly fading away into dark spots – he was blacking out. He collapsed to the ground, sliding downward into the darkness. He closed his eyes, thinking how he failed his friends. He hadn't even had the chance to apologize – tell them how sorry he was and how stupid he'd been.

He would never get the chance to say he was sorry.

_I'm sorry, guys… Please forgive me…_

That thought stood at the forefront of his mind as the blackness took over.

ooOOOOOoo

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**Next Time:** Chapter Two: The Missing Leader – The Titans discover something very wrong and realize that Robin is missing.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	2. The Missing Leader

**Author's Note:** Wow, two reviews in one day. Okay, I must say: I couldn't stop grinning for like ten minutes. ^^ So happy. Well, I just couldn't help but write chapter two in response. Hehe!

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**The Missing Leader**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 9:30 am.**

The Teen Titans were an interesting group of five young teens; heroes that sacrificed their time to protect others and stop crime – stop those that would harm others in their greed or quest for power. Each Titan had their own pasts, their own skills, their own secrets that they wished to keep to themselves – Robin had been no different. Robin's friends each had their interesting abilities and quirks that kept them together in their uniqueness.

Cyborg was the oldest out of the group, being around seventeen years old. He was also the tallest of the group, being an ex-football player; but an accident changed everything for the older teen. Thus, it accounted for his appearance, being mostly robot – only part of his face, a right grey blue eye, sections of his arms, heart, and other vital organs were human flesh. With most of his body being made out of high powered robotics, his skills lied with immense strength and electronics. The chocolate skinned young man was very bright, being able to completely repair any damage that could be inflicted to his electronic body.

He was also second in command to Robin in leadership of the Teen Titans, although he didn't aspire to such a position, and much of the time acted like the older brother to each of the friends. But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy himself and spent much of his time with video games and sports; and with building numerous electronics.

Starfire was the next oldest, being fifteen. She was from another planet called Tamaran. Thus, Starfire wasn't quite used to earth customs; her use of the English language could be considered quite odd. She was the kindest of the group, being the ray of naive sunshine, yet also bore a soft maturity that held them together. Her powers were driven by her emotions; the greater she felt, the greater her power. She could fly and shoot powered star bolts from her hands. She also had inhuman strength of a thousand men. That being said, negative emotions many times had a poor affect on the young alien girl.

Starfire was also quite beautiful; her deep emerald eyes like gemstones, while the sclera of her eyes a lighter green. Her long burnt auburn hair reached to her hips and her skin was a orange shaded tan. She generally wore a purple sleeveless top which showed her midriff, a mini skirt of the same shade of purple, and purple boots that reached all the way to her thighs.

Raven was also fifteen, slightly younger than Starfire. Raven was half human and half demon. The story of her birth was a long one and a terrible one – a story in itself and a story for another time. Suffice to say, her father was a cruel, powerful demon. Raven could be considered Starfire's opposite. Raven's powers were also driven by her emotions; however, the more she felt, the more out of control her powers would become. Thus, Raven spent much of the time meditating to avoid being overly emotional; most of the time being monotone and sometimes sarcastic when she spoke.

Raven's appearance could be considered almost Goth like, yet at the same time, she too was attractive. Her skin was pale, almost grey in appearance. Her eyes were a deep violet; her short, shoulder length hair the same. On her forehead, she bore a red, black edged gemstone – the ajna chakra – which she had since birth. She wore a long sleeved black leotard; an indigo cloak, which she kept her face hidden much of the time with its hood; and matching ruffled boots that came to her ankles.

Beast Boy was the youngest of the group, being twelve years old – nearly thirteen in a few months. He was the light hearted member; always telling jokes – although, much of the time he was the butt of such jokes, especially when his own pranks backfired on him. His appearance was probably the most noticeable out of the group, having dark green skin, pointed ears, and fangs. As such, his skin color attested itself within his powers. Beast Boy was a changeling, meaning he could transform into any type of animal he chose.

Because of this, Beast Boy was a firm vegetarian, usually arguing with the others on this subject. He wore a black and purple uniform – a old uniform from his days on a different team, The Doom Patrol – which had gloves and sneakers with Velcro straps. Being the youngest of the group, Beast Boy tended to try harder with things, but usually he just ended up getting into mischief.

Each were special friends that depended on each other. However, none of them truly knew or understood the great and long trial that laid before their lives – a trial of sorrow, of pain, of growth, of change, and of hope; one that would change their lives.

Hopefully for the better.

Starfire glided happily through the air as she made her way to the main room of Titans Tower; humming lightly to herself. It was a glorious morning indeed. The sun was shining brightly, the birds chirping happily – indeed the perfect start to a glorious new day. She just couldn't wait to be with her friends. What new fun would they have today?

The door of the main room slid open automatically as she approached.

"Good morning, dear friends!" cried Starfire joyfully, lifting into the air as she smiled brightly. She was met by low, indistinct grumbles. Starfire frowned. That just wasn't right. Why weren't her friends happy? Was it not a beautiful day? Starfire floated towards Raven – who was sitting in a chair and reading a book – her feet landing gently once she reached the other girl. She hoped that her friend would explain the boys' unnatural actions.

"Raven, why does everyone have the gloom?" asked Starfire. Raven looked up from the book she was reading.

"Those two are still mad at Robin."

"Oh, we're not still mad – we're _furious!_" yelled Cyborg, slamming the fridge closed. In his arms were a number of foods; all perfect ingredients in the making of a sandwich. "Little dude totally didn't trust us. I thought we were supposed to be a team."

Cyborg dropped the food onto the countertop angrily. He stomped through the kitchen, grabbing a few spoons, knives, and a plate. Raven rolled her eyes and lifted her book to continue her reading.

"Yeah!" piped up Beast Boy indignantly, popping up from a spot on the couch. The video game he had been playing paused. "Look at my hair! _Look at it!_" Beast Boy pointed hysterically to his hair. There were still remnants of little red splotches through the short green hair. "How the heck am I supposed to get rid of this gunk? Not cool at all!"

Raven shut her book closed irritably.

"Enough," snapped Raven. "No amount of yelling and griping will change what Robin did. He made a bad choice. Accept it and move on. Choose to forgive him or choose to snub him. But whatever you choose – choose it quietly. The two of you are ruining my concentration."

Raven opened her book again and settled down in her seat, vanishing beneath its pages. Starfire noticed that the writing on the cover was upside down.

Cyborg grumbled something under his breath, but didn't argue Raven's point; continuing his work on his sandwich. Beast Boy huffed and whipped back around, resuming his fast paced video game.

Starfire bit her lip, looking sadly at her friends. She could feel the unhappy mood flowing through the air. It was terribly suffocating. She turned away and slipped quietly out of the room. She wandered the halls of the tower, slowly making her way towards Robin's room.

She understood the others' anger. She herself was not pleased with Robin's choice. But a part of her heart understood that Robin had only been doing what he thought was best. But, sadly, it showed everyone that he was not trusting of his friends.

Their friend Raven was right; they would have to do the forgiving of Robin. If they didn't, Starfire feared they would never be the same as a team again. She would have to do her best. If she could convince Robin to come and say the apologies, then maybe their friends would, in return, forgive him.

"Robin?" called Starfire softly, knocking on Robin's door once she reached it.

No reply.

"Robin? Are you awake? Come and join the others in the partaking of the breakfast," said Starfire in an encouraging tone. She knocked again.

Silence.

"Robin?" asked Starfire, opening the door. The room was silent and dark. She could see the many clippings of paper on the walls. She stepped inside hesitantly, flipping the light switch on.

The room was divided; the main area seemed to be Robin's workspace. There was a wall that parted the room without the use of a door. Starfire slowly made her way to the other section where Robin's bed lay.

It was empty.

Yet the blankets looked used and not the orderly way that Robin usually left his room in. The sheer curtains fluttered in the gentle morning breeze.

Starfire's feet lifted off the ground as she looked around the room. He just wasn't here. Her speed quickened as she left Robin's entire room, the electronic door sliding shut in her wake. Her soft, kind voice filled the hallways as she called his name.

"Robin? Where are you?"

Still no reply.

Starfire couldn't stop the panic that began to fill her chest. She began to zip through the air, frantically looking in all the places she knew he'd normally go. She flew through the entire tower, going through the rooms on all levels of the enormous building. She tried the room of working out, the basement, the roof, the room of cars, the rooms used for guests, the room of recovery – Robin was just nowhere to be found.

Starfire couldn't stop fearing for the worst.

"Friends!" cried Starfire frantically as she burst back into the main room. Raven hadn't moved from her spot, although her book was righted. Cyborg was sitting next to Beast Boy on the couch, scarfing down his sandwich with one hand and pointing towards the TV screen with the other.

"No, no, no, BB. You're gonna crash if you drive like that."

"Dude, I'm trying—_AAH!_ Maaan, I crashed again."

"I'm telling you should've listened to me."

"You were distracting me!"

"_Friends!_" cried Starfire louder. The TV screen displayed a red flashing light, signifying Beast Boy's crash. Cyborg was in the middle of taking another bite of his sandwich. Raven's head popped up from behind her book. The other three Titans looked at Starfire.

"Starfire, what is it?" asked Raven.

"Robin is gone!"

"What do you mean, gone?" asked Beast Boy, raising an eyebrow. "He can't be gone, he lives here. `Sides, it's not like he'd go off without tellin` us."

"Not like he hasn't before," drawled Cyborg sarcastically through a mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed before continuing. "Look, Star. I'm sure he's off brooding inside his room over Slade again."

"He is not! I looked!"

"Training room?"

"_Yes!_"

"Starfire, listen to me. You need to calm down," said Raven. Starfire bit her lip anxiously before lifting into the air and flying over the couch to land in front of the large screen. She turned to face the other Titans.

"Oh, friends, I have checked everywhere. He is nowhere to be found. I fear that he has left us," cried Starfire, pulling her arms close to her chest in worry.

"Star, you sure checked everywhere?" asked Beast Boy.

"I have!"

"Just calm down, Starfire," said Raven firmly, lowering her hood. "I'll try to sense him. If he's in the tower, I'll know."

Starfire nodded and patiently waited. Raven lifted her legs and crossed them, floating about two feet in the air. She extended her arms outward and closed her eyes. She murmured softly, "Azarath, metrion, zinthos." There was a long tense moment of waiting before Raven opened her eyes.

"He's not in the tower."

The air in the room felt heavy as newfound worry and anxiety began to spill from each of the Titans.

Something was deadly wrong.

"Oh, we are bad friends for not knowing where our friend, Robin, is located," cried Starfire, the volume of her voice rising as her worry grew.

"All right, all right. Calm down already," said Cyborg with a raised hand. He set his half eaten sandwich aside before standing up. "We'll figure this out. I'll just check the camera feed outside Robin's room. That way we can see when he left his room."

"Please hurry," said Starfire, beginning to wring her hands together. "I fear there is something wrong; terribly wrong. I have the bad feeling."

"I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe Robin went out for some fresh air or something," said Cyborg, trying to give Starfire a reassuring smile. But it wasn't really working. With a sigh, Cyborg walked to the main computer, sat down in a chair, and starting working.

The other Titans gathered around behind him; clustered together as they leaned in. A darkened camera scene appeared on the large screen, showing the outside of Robin's room.

"Okay, I'm going to fast forward after he went to bed," said Cyborg, pressing the enter key. The nothingness of the darkness sped up. After a few moments, Robin's door flickered suddenly.

"Wait, you missed something," said Raven, pointing to the screen. Cyborg nodded, seeing it as well. The footage went backwards and Starfire saw Robin's door flicker once again. Cyborg stopped it and allowed the film to play out in real time.

There was a long agonizing moment of waiting.

Then, the door opened and Robin stood in the doorway. He stiffened just at the door opened and he whirled around. He seemed to call out into the darkness before stepping back into his room after a moment. Starfire caught a glimpse of shock and fury on his face as he turned. The door closed after a swift moment.

Raven frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "Replay that, Cyborg."

The Titans rewatched the segment. Contemplative silence permeated the group afterward. They began to glance at each other, as if in the hopes of reading the others' thoughts.

"So… um… What exactly does this mean?" asked Beast Boy.

"It looks like something called Robin back into his room," answered Raven.

"But never left afterward," continued Cyborg, as he fast forwarded the footage to the point Starfire had visited only moments ago.

"That must mean an intruder used the window in Robin's room," concluded Starfire. "His window was open."

"Wait, what? Intruder? You guys think it's an intruder?" asked Beast Boy incredulously, yet a hint of frightened uncertainty. "Oh, come on. Who'd sneak into Titans Tower, huh?"

"Could be a number of villains," suggested Cyborg with a shrug.

"Why isn't there more footage?" demanded Beast Boy. "Now that we know something's up, look at the footage from Robin's room."

Cyborg sighed and shook his head. "That's just it. We don't have any cameras in our rooms. Ever hear of privacy?"

"Yeah, but…" Beast Boy trailed off and looked down at the ground. There was a long moment of silence between the group.

Starfire bit her lip nervously. She had rarely seen Robin look so angry, so hateful. She could only think of one person who ever brought such a look on his face; one who Robin was forever obsessed with bringing down for the safety of the city – yet one who was powerfully dangerous.

And that worried her greatly.

"I think… it is Slade," said Starfire, breaking the silence. The other three Titans stared at her, looks of disbelief all over their faces.

"Look, I know we just had a fight with the man, but that doesn't mean he… he _kidnapped_ Robin," said Cyborg skeptically, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice. "I mean, why would he kidnap Robin?"

"I have rarely seen such a look of fury on Robin's face. Only Slade ever brings such feelings to Robin's heart," said Starfire in a soft tone. "And Robin was never able to discover Slade's plans."

A feeling of somber gloom fell upon the group of teens. The thought of their leader, their buddy, their best friend kidnapped by a hardened criminal was a terrible, _terrible_ thought to think. Starfire began to wring her hands again in worry.

"Friends, what are we to do?"

"I… I don't know," said Cyborg, his tone dropping into deep worry. "I mean, this is big. This is serious stuff. Robin's the one who usually does the leading with this kind of stuff."

"We need a temporary leader right now, then; until we bring him back," said Raven.

"Yeah, but—"

"We _will_ bring him back," said Raven, overriding Beast Boy. She looked at Cyborg seriously. "I suggest you take over leadership, Cyborg."

"_Me?_ Are you crazy, Rae?"

"I am not. You are second in command. We need to formulate a plan and I have confidence that you will lead us well."

"I fully agree!" piped Starfire. "We must hurry and rescue our friend, Robin, from the evil hands of Slade."

"I…" started Cyborg, looking uncertainly at the looks on his teammates' faces. Even Beast Boy seemed to have accepted his leadership, albeit temporary.

"All right, I'll do it," sighed Cyborg.

"Glorious!" cried Starfire, leaping happily into the air once. "Now we must find Slade and bring our friend Robin back."

Cyborg frowned.

"What would include Robin in Slade's plans?" questioned Cyborg in a low murmur. "Why steal him away in the middle of the night? And why just him? Why not all of us? It's like he isn't targeting us as a group."

"Just Robin…" nodded Starfire, her heart clenching once in her worry.

"Those are the right questions we should be asking. And we will find out the answers," said Raven in a low, yet determined tone.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Three: Into the Haunt – Robin finds out a little more on Slade's motives.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love! ^.^


	3. Into the Haunt

**Author's Note:** Wow, all your reviews are so lovely and so helpful! I really appreciate all the impute and encouragement you've given me. ^^ Those of you who've expressed your thoughts: I really consider them and have even added things because of it. Thanks a ton!

Haha… a little side note. I have not read a single DC comic in my entire life. I have watched – and own, I might add – all five seasons of Teen Titans. But when I was doing a little background research on Slade and Wintergreen I was like "_Whoa!_ There's more drama here than my grandmother's soap operas! I thought these comics were for kids. o.O"

So, the only real information I have on Wintergreen is from what I've read in fanfiction. So, hopefully he'll work out. XD If not, then he'll just be a bit different.

Oh, well.

LOOOOL.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Into the Haunt**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:00 am.**

Robin groaned as wakefulness began to flow through his consciousness. His head throbbed with a dull pain, along with his stomach. Another groan emitted from his throat as he struggled to move.

"Awake yet, Robin?"

Robin stiffened, his mind snapping fully awake; sharp and clear. That was Slade's voice. Somehow, Robin was with Slade – hadn't the man showed up suddenly in his room? What about the other Titans? Had they been captured, too? Or worse?

Then, a terrible panic filled Robin's chest.

What if Slade had taken his mask off? He had been unconscious around a nut case – there was nothing stopping the man from ripping of his mask and seeing his identity. With a nervous swallow, Robin brought a hand slowly to his face.

His mask was still there.

Relief sagged throughout his body; strengthening him. He was still Robin. Dick was protected behind the safety of his mask. Slade didn't know who he was and Bruce's identity wasn't endangered. He was still safe.

_Still safe_.

Robin's eyes slipped open. The lighting was dim; too dark for his groggy eyes to see through. He tried to push himself up and found that he was lying on the floor. Robin also noticed that he was still in his pajamas. He sat up with his legs curled beneath him as he took in his surroundings; his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He supported his weight with one arm.

The sound of clinking gears constantly rang above Robin's head. He looked up to see endless amounts of the sound's source. They were bigger and more elaborate than anything he had ever seen before. The room itself was wide and expansive; the lighting darkened in an aura of deep brown. Along the far wall was a simple door. Other than that, Robin could see no other possible exits.

He wasn't in Titans Tower any more.

"What do you think?" asked Slade. Robin turned his head towards the direction of his voice. Slade's legs were crossed as he sat on a high seat, which gave Robin a strong impression of a king on his throne. Robin scowled at the sight. Surrounding the man was a large number of controls; a blank computer screen stretched the width of the room behind him. Slade opened his arms wide, as if in display.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Robin. I hope you'll make yourself at home – since this _will_ be your home as well for quite a long while."

"This _isn't_ my home," growled Robin, getting to his feet and preparing himself for a fight. "My home is Titans Tower."

"_Was_ your home, Robin," said Slade, his voice silky smooth. "_This_ is your _new_ home."

"As if I'll _ever_—"

"You know, Robin; I've been watching you for quite some time," said Slade, ignoring Robin's protests. Slade leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee and supporting his head in his hand. His other arm lay easily over his lap. "You are an interesting child, indeed."

_Huh?_

Robin's stance relaxed slightly. The man wasn't moving from his seat. He looked so relaxed; almost tranquil. Wasn't the man going to attack? Why was he just sitting there like they were discussing the weather? Slade had to be totally insane – completely lost it. Wasn't he the enemy?

"What are you talking about? Are you some kind of stalker or something?" demanded Robin.

Slade chuckled, shaking his head once in his amusement.

"In a way, I suppose," said Slade with a light shrug, his tone casual. "It's the only way I know _everything_. Knowledge is power, after all. When I know more than you, Robin, I have more power than you – perhaps even over you, at times. Such as now; you are confused with my intentions and will continue to be so until I reveal them to you. Thus, you are in my control."

"Enough games, Slade," hissed Robin, hardening his stance once again. "What do you want? Why have you brought me here? Where are the other Titans?"

Slade sighed and shook his head, leaning to rest against the back of his chair. He rested his elbows on the arms, lifting his hands in front of his chest; fingertips touching fingertips.

"So impatient, aren't you, Robin? I keep telling you: you need to learn patience."

"Shut up! Quick lecturing me!" shouted Robin, angrily slicing a hand through the air. "Don't you _ever_ lecture me. You're a criminal. You have no right."

"Oh, I have every right, Robin," said Slade, his eye narrowing through the slit of his mask. "As of right now, I am in charge over you. Your wellbeing depends on me. You belong to _me_, now."

"…_What?_" Robin's voice caught in his throat as the shock washed over him. What was Slade playing at? It almost sounded as if… the man wanted to take him in. Was this suppose to be a joke?

No. There was no way. Slade just wanted to control Robin. He just wanted to control his enemy. There was no way Slade actually had any purpose other than shutting Robin and the Teen Titans down so he could have his way with the city.

"Are you confused, Robin?" asked Slade, his tone dropping to become soft. There was another low chuckle. "You probably think I'm just like all the other villains you've met before. What, were you thinking I wanted to control or destroy the city? The world, perhaps?"

Robin didn't answer. He shifted his weight uneasily. There was something in the man's tone that unsettled Robin. Slade sounded so calm as he spoke. He didn't sound like the usual criminals that the Teen Titans faced every day; those ones who loved to monologue over their great evil plans like a broken antique record.

Slade sounded almost… normal.

Sane, even.

"Why would I want to control the world, hm? Or destroy it? What a waste. I have no desire for that. No, my desires are a little simpler. A little more… _personal_." Slade leaned forward, his elbows shifting to his legs; his fingers lacing together. He rested his chin on his intertwined fingers, his grey blue eye piercing deeply into Robin's eyes. His voice went stiller and softer.

"I want an apprentice. An heir, so to speak. A moldable child to follow after my footsteps. I have much to teach, much to offer – but, I am only willing to pass such valuable information onto the _perfect_ child."

Robin held his breath, unable to breathe for fear of making a single sound that would shatter the softness he felt within Slade's tone. He was frozen in his smooth and quiet speaking; the man's voice dangerously captivating and enticing.

"And Robin, I've chosen you," said Slade in a deep whisper, his voice filled with the sound of a smirk. He leaned back slowly, folding his arms and lifting his chin slightly as if giving Robin a moment to register his words.

Robin let out a low sigh, breathing deeply; releasing the stillness that he had felt during Slade's words. Silence stood between them. The only sounds that filled the air were the clinking of the gears so high above.

It was… flattering, Robin supposed, that this man wanted him as an apprentice. It seemed that Robin had caught his eye, even though he hadn't been trying to. And now the man wanted him to be – what had he said? – an heir to follow in his footsteps. Did this man really want to give Robin everything he had? That's what being an heir meant, after all.

But why? Why Robin?

"Why… me?" asked Robin; his voice soft. Slade tilted his head to the side, as if considering the question.

"Oh, Robin," started Slade, sounding deeply regretful, yet managing to sound condescending as well. "Do you not know your own worth? You're like a raw gemstone. So much potential, so much ability, so much to offer. But without the proper master to polish the gem, such beauty is just wasted – if not destroyed in the hands of an amateur."

Robin's mouth opened slightly; taken aback by the man's description. Did he really think Robin had that much potential? His heart quickened at the compliment. He closed his eyes behind his mask, trying to calm down his racing heart.

It had been a long time since anyone had said something like that to him. Sure, his friends said things to build each other up all the time, but nothing like this. Definitely nothing like _this_. Not since his parents' deaths had he ever heard something so complimentary.

It was almost something a parent would say to their child.

Robin opened his eyes, taking a deep calming breath. It was really too bad Slade was a psychopath. Really too bad and such a waste as well. Robin just might've taken the man up on his offer if he'd been a normal person.

But, of course the man wasn't – a normal person, that is.

"Slade…" started Robin. "I'm… flattered by your offer. But I'm sorry. I'll have to decline. I can't be your heir. I'm Robin, leader of the Teen Titans. There's no room in there to be Slade's heir."

Robin took a deep breath and looked straight into Slade's visible eye.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Slade."

_Clink._

_Clink._

_Clink._

Only the sound of the gears filled the air as they stared at each other.

Then, Slade chuckled darkly. "Really, Robin; you truly are quite adorable." Robin stiffened at the man's silky tone. "What makes you think I'm giving you a choice in this matter?"

Unbidden panic rose in Robin's chest, his heart rate climbing once again. What more did the man want? It wasn't like he could keep Robin here. He gritted his teeth and glared at the masked man.

"What about the other Titans? You can't just keep me here. I refuse to be your apprentice!"

"Rest assured, your little friends are safely tucked away in their little tower. I did nothing to harm them," said Slade with a light shrug. Then, the air grew heavy around him in deadly seriousness. "But you will be my apprentice, Robin. Like I've said: you don't have a choice in this matter. You are too young to make such an important choice on your own. You _will_ be my apprentice – whether you like it or not. You'll get used to it, sooner or later. Sooner is preferable, but—" There was a light chuckle. "—not necessary."

"I won't _ever_ like it," snapped Robin hotly. "You can't keep me here!"

"Oh, please; try and escape, Robin," said Slade with a wave of his hand. "I can assure you – you won't find the exit. But I promise you, I don't look lightly on such willfulness. You will be punished if you try to escape."

Robin glared at Slade in silence, his eyes darting to the door. Then, suddenly, he bolted to it. Slade didn't stop him, only chuckling lightly. Robin gritted his teeth at the man's smugness. He burst through the door, suddenly slipping to a stop in surprise at the drastic change in décor.

He was inside a brightly lit kitchen. The room was decently sized with clean white walls; elegant wooden cabinets sat above a rich marble countertop across the room. Robin could see a number of appliances like a stove, a dishwasher, a fridge, and a freezer. There was a round table with three chairs; the table set with silverware as if waiting for a meal.

In the back of the kitchen, directly ahead of Robin, was a dark, open hallway that led towards the back; the darkness hiding any possibility of knowing what lay beyond. There was a closed door on the left of it. Next to the door, and close to Robin, was a large beautiful dish cabinet; glass doors revealing many pieces of delicate china.

It looked so normal – like a real kitchen in a real house, complete with the homey feeling.

Such a contrast to the room Robin had just left.

An older man with pepper grey hair was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, a newspaper in his hands. He looked to be well in his sixties, yet his face hadn't quite fallen with too many wrinkles. He looked up at Robin; setting the newspaper down when he saw him.

"Ah, there you are," said the old man in a warm tone, as if he had been waiting for Robin. He stood up and motioned to one of the places at the table. "Come, sit down. Your breakfast is getting cold."

"Who are you?" demanded Robin, unmoving, as the old man walked to the stove. The old man grabbed a frying pan from off the stovetop and turned slightly to look at Robin, an eyebrow raised.

"Right to the point, aren't you? Ah, well. I'm William Wintergreen; Slade's butler and a very old friend."

Before Robin could say anything in return, the old man continued with a stern look on his aged face.

"Let's set some ground rules, shall we? I may be the butler around here, but I'm not the maid. You will clean up after yourself. Put dirty dishes into the dishwasher when you're through with them. Since I do the cooking, I expect you to be present – on time, I might add – at every meal when served. If you are in need of a snack, you need only to ask and I shall prepare you one."

"I'm not staying here," said Robin swiftly. Wintergreen raised his eyebrow again, a light wry smile tugging at the side of his mouth. He walked to the table and began to scoop some eggs from the pan onto each plate.

"Well, that's debatable, now isn't it?"

"Why do you work for Slade, Wintergreen? Don't you know he's a—"

Robin's tirade was stopped suddenly when a sharp cuff came at the back of his head. Robin hissed and placed a hand over the spot, turning his head to see Slade standing behind him. The man's narrowed eye looked greatly displeased.

"That's _Mr._ Wintergreen to you, boy. You need to show some respect."

"I don't _need_ to do anything here!" cried Robin. "I _need_ to go _home_."

"You _are_ home," said Slade, his tone dripping with silk. Robin could've sworn the man had a smirk lifting his visible eye.

"This isn't my home and you know it," snapped Robin, glaring irritably at him.

"Would the two of you stop already?" said Wintergreen, sounding exasperated and annoyed. "Argue after breakfast, why don't you? It's getting cold."

Slade sighed softly and nodded, taking a seat without another word or glance towards Robin.

Robin didn't move.

"There's no way I'm eating anything that you people serve. You'll probably drug me."

"How dare you, young man!" cried Wintergreen, sounding appalled; a frown darkening his face. "I would never drug a child. The nerve of you! Sit down and eat already, you impertinent boy. You're much too thin as it is."

"Sit down, Robin. Do as Will says," said Slade, his tone turning dangerous.

"Quit acting like this is permanent!" shouted Robin. "I'm _not_ staying here. Get that through your thick heads!"

Slade stood swiftly. Before Robin could react, a hard slap cracked across his cheek with such force that he crashed to the floor. The pain stung viciously and throbbed through his entire face. The blow made him feel lightheaded as he tried to look back up at the man that towered over him.

"You _will_ learn some respect, boy," said Slade coldly. "I won't tolerate such insolent behavior."

Robin growled, the sound vibrating his throat. With a cry of anger, Robin rushed upwards to punch Slade. The man easily grabbed Robin's fist in his hand, stopping the attack.

"Pitiful, Robin," chided Slade. He threw Robin to the side, making him fly backwards to smash into the countertop. The cabinets rattled from the force as Robin's back cracked along the edge. He gasped from the terrible sharp pain that shot up his spine. He had to support his weight with a hand on the countertop, his vision filled with blinding stars from the pain.

"_Ah—!_ Slade, not in the kitchen," scolded Wintergreen, putting his hands on his hips. "The food—the _china!_ That stuff is rare and you _know_ I hate wasting food. You're too rough with the boy. Just sit down and eat already, will you?"

Slade chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry, Will."

Robin couldn't defend himself from the iron grip that clamped around his neck. The wind suddenly stopped flowing and he gasped for breath as he was lifted into the air. His hands automatically clutched uselessly against the terrible hold; twisting his hands over Slade's wrist.

"But we'll be taking this into the other room, won't we, Robin?"

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Four: Outmatched – Robin discovers just how helpless he is before Slade.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	4. Outmatched

**Author's Note:** Oh my gosh, **maranda111**, I laughed _so_ hard when I read your review it made my tummy hurt! "Can we please torture Robin?" *puppy eyes* LOLOOLOL. I'm sure Robin appreciates all _looove_. *dies laughing*

Hm, no worries…? The, uh… torture will be gradual and increasing with Robin's stubbornness. I'll be trying to have a good balance between the emotional torture and the beatings – at least in the beginning. We'll slow torture the poor boy. XD Heh… As with most of my stories with decent plots, the heroes always reach a bottom low before rising up!

I must warn you though, this story as a whole is a bit different than your average Apprentice fic. (At least the ones I've read) This will have an unconventional but happy ending. :) Hopefully, you'll be able to look forward to it. ^^

And despite what my last name might lead you to believe, I don't know a lick of Spanish. Heh… But Google translate is great for times like these. ^^ So, con mucho gusto!

It was funny, I was chatting with my Dad one morning and I was like, "You know, I write villains _really_ well."

*pause*

"Should I be worried?"

ROOOTFL!

Wintergreen is extremely concerned for Robin but doesn't/can't always show it. He does have some of my favorite lines. ^-^ He says the funniest things. XD

Anyways… rambling here…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Outmatched**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:10 am.**

A terrible chill slid down Robin's spine, like an arctic shard of ice; shivering him to his very soul.

"Oh, very well," sighed Wintergreen in exasperation. "Do hurry, would you?"

"Of course," said Slade. He walked towards the door with Robin dangling for breath in his iron grip. He snapped his fingers and, once the door swung open automatically, he harshly tossed Robin through the doorway. The force of the throw sent Robin flying; skidding along the floor onto his back a few feet away.

The clinking gears joined in the sound of Robin's gasps as he heaved a breath of air through his mouth. He coughed a few times and rubbed his throat with a hand, trying to rub away the feeling of the man's powerful hand from his skin. Slade calmly walked through the door after him.

"Slade, do us both a favor and don't kill the boy," said Wintergreen dryly. "I only cook breakfast once a day so please hurry up." With that, the door closed behind Slade.

"Ha… ha… your butler…" gasped Robin, struggling for air, yet still feeling the need to throw a sarcastic bite at Slade. "He's a nagging one, isn't he?"

He paid for it.

A metal tipped boot swiftly connected with Robin's side. He couldn't hold back the cry of pain that burst from his mouth. He rolled onto his side; his arms clutching his stomach and his legs curling close to his chest.

"Lesson number one: disrespect is not tolerated. You will be respectful to me and to _Mr._ Wintergreen at all times," said Slade. "Now, get up on your feet."

Robin attempted to do so – not in any effort to obey the man, but in an act of self preservation. Groveling on the floor at the feet of one's enemy was not a smart position to be in.

Not a smart position _at all_.

Using his anger and hatred towards his enemy as a burst of energy, Robin forced himself up onto his hands and knees. His stomach still raged in pain and his breathing still hadn't normalized, but he managed to stand up; wavering unsteadily somewhat in his stance. He faced Slade, readying himself for any attack from the man.

Slade clasped his hands behind his back as he tilted his head to the side slightly, considering Robin for a long quiet moment.

"Are you out of shape?" asked Slade finally, a slight incredulous tone littering his voice. Robin growled and darted forward, his entire body pumping with the desire of punching this hated masked man into the floor.

Robin's fist was caught in Slade's hand; Robin spun his leg into the air, aiming for the man's head. It was blocked; Slade grabbed Robin's ankle before it connected to his head. Robin growled and tried to jerk out of his grasp; his fist and leg strongly captured within the iron grip of Slade. The man let go of his ankle and pulled Robin's fist forward; sending him flying over the man's shoulder to tumble to the floor. Robin rolled through the toss and jumped to his feet, whirling around to face Slade.

The man had disappeared.

Robin's head darted around nervously, trying to catch a glimpse of Slade before he attacked. Suddenly, a blow smashed into the left side of Robin's head and stars erupted in his sight. A growl ripped from Robin's throat as he punched wildly towards the direction of the previous blow.

Once again his fist was caught in Slade's hand.

"Stop fighting with your anger. Control your emotions," instructed Slade. "Let your fists do the job for you. If you fight with your anger, then your enemy can easily use it against you."

"Shut up!" shouted Robin. He sent his other fist towards Slade's face, but was caught in the man's other hand.

"You're not listening to me, Robin," chided Slade, sounding amused and somewhat exasperated. "If you don't listen, you're never going to have a chance against me; let alone win."

"_Just—shut—up!_" hissed Robin, kicking Slade in the stomach with the flat of his foot. Slade's grip weakened and Robin wrenched his fists away, twisting around to land another kick against the man. It was easily evaded. A blow came from below, punching Robin directly in the pit of his stomach.

Robin felt all the wind leave him.

He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath; wheezing heavily. Robin's fists clenched as the anger began to pour through his veins.

He was totally out of his league. He could feel it – he was seriously outmatched by Slade. The man hadn't shown this much skill before. Robin gritted his teeth furiously. Slade had been holding back all this time with him – he must've been. That psycho-jerk had been holding back in every battle with him!

Well, now _that_ just pissed Robin off.

With an infuriated growl of rage, Robin leapt off the ground and darted towards Slade. He was so angry that the man was messing with him. Slade wasn't taking him seriously. Well, Robin was just going to give the psychopath something to be serious about.

Robin fought like a ferocious animal, sending endless attacks toward any part of Slade he could throw his fist or foot at. Slade calmly blocked each attack with ease. This only sent Robin into a deeper fury. Robin leapt into the air, twisting his body into a leaping kick towards the man's face.

Robin's leg was caught midair and he was left dangling upside down in Slade's grip. Robin swayed in the air for a moment as the blood began to rush to his head.

"I thought I told you to stop attacking with your anger," said Slade, irritation filling his tone.

"Quit lecturing me!" cried Robin, flailing slightly in his precarious position. "Just—_stop_ already!"

"Robin, it's my job to lecture and teach you."

"You are _not _my teacher!" shouted Robin, sending his free leg into Slade's side. He heard a light grunt from Slade and he couldn't hold back the smirk of satisfaction of landing a hit on this irritating man. But it didn't last as he felt Slade's knee connect with his stomach. Robin cried out before he was thrown to the side onto the ground. Robin groaned as he struggled against the floor to move.

"I _am_ your teacher now. And you _will_ learn from me," snapped Slade. Then, there was a soft sigh and the shake of a head. "I'm surprised at you, Robin. I don't know how you've been winning all your battles. You must have a lot of luck. I admit, your technique is decent, but easily overcome by any _halfwit_ who knows a sliver of what he's doing."

Robin clenched his fist and pounded the ground with it, absolutely frustrated by Slade's demeaning words. He heard a sigh from Slade as the man came to stand over him.

"Really, Robin," said Slade, another sigh escaping as he spoke. "I have much to offer you; if you only swallow back that annoying pride of yours and _think_ for one second, you'd realize my words make sense."

"Stop. Lecturing. Me," snarled Robin slowly in a soft, deadly whisper.

"What was that, boy?" returned Slade, his tone going dangerously dark.

"I said: _stop lecturing me!_" shouted Robin, leaping upward after he spoke. He flipped backwards, supporting his weight with his hands as he kicked upward. He felt his shoeless foot connect with his target. Still on his hands, Robin twisted his body to swing another kick – which connected with a light _twang_ of sound. Robin pushed off his hands and leapt to his feet, crouching on the ground, before he jumped upward with a clenched fist.

A leg smashed into the side of Robin's stomach; the force of the blow sent him flying aside with a cry. He landed on the ground once before bouncing in the air; skidding along the floor a few feet before he landed again. There was a moment before his body settled. Robin groaned in pain, rolling onto his side as he pushed himself up. Another kick to his stomach sent Robin flying to the side. He smashed into the wall with his back, before collapsing face down onto the floor. He groaned against its cold surface; pain ravaging his side.

"I wonder," murmured Slade from right above Robin. "How long it will take for the lesson to settle into that _thick_ head of yours!"

"Enough already!" came the angry sound of Wintergreen's voice. Robin struggled to look up. When he managed it, he saw the older man with his arms folded; leaning against the doorframe and looking extremely cross.

"Slade, do you know how eggs taste after being reheated too many times? Like cardboard. I, for one, dislike that taste and I'm positive you will as well. Do your training _after_ you eat. That's all I ask. You can't think clearly with an empty stomach – either of you. Besides, the boy's much too thin to miss meals and I won't have a starved child in this house."

Robin felt his face flush, the heat flooding to his ears. That was the second time the older man mentioned his size. It wasn't his fault he was naturally slender. He was an acrobat – the size came with the profession.

Slade didn't move for a long moment. Robin could feel the anger emanating from the man – all directed towards him; he was sure of it. Robin struggled to sit up, sharp pain flaring throughout his stomach. In the heat of the fight, he hadn't noticed the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his skin. His breathing was heavy and it hurt to expand his lungs all the way.

Then, Slade turned away from Robin, motioning with a hand to follow him, before walking past Wintergreen through the door into the kitchen. Robin knew there was no fighting it right now, seeing as he was injured at the moment. He felt a trickle of sweat slide down his left temple and he took a hand to wipe it away. When he was done, he saw a smear of blood on the back of his hand.

Wonderful.

Robin groaned as he struggled to stand up. Slade really did a number on him. The man hadn't held back – or at least, that's what Robin thought. At that moment, Robin was no longer sure what to make of the man. He could be far stronger than what he had exhibited in their fight. If he was stronger…

Robin didn't even want to _think_ about that possibility.

He placed a hand on the wall for support and slipped upwards to stand on his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as a wave of sharp, throbbing pain rippled through his body.

Oh, this couldn't be good.

Gritting his teeth, Robin walked slowly towards the open door, trying hard to ignore the sharp pain that kept biting into his side as he breathed. Wintergreen stood in the doorway, waiting for Robin. When he reached him, the older man looked him over with a critical eye.

"Dear me, you look like road kill," commented Wintergreen dryly. Robin grumbled incoherencies in reply. Wintergreen held up a damp cloth in his hand before placing it lightly on Robin's bleeding temple. Robin hissed as the cold cloth stung his wound.

"Keep it there," instructed Wintergreen. Robin took the cloth and wordlessly obeyed. He figured staying silent and listening would be better than griping at him. The old man was obviously trying to help and Robin could see concern within those aged hazel green eyes.

However, Robin couldn't hold back the gasp of surprise and embarrassment when the old man lifted his pajama shirt.

"H—hey!" protested Robin, wincing in pain as he tried to push his shirt back down. "Wha—what are you doing?"

"Stop struggling, child, and let me see the damage," said Wintergreen, sounding exasperated as he pushed Robin's hands away. "Lift your shirt up, would you?"

Tentatively, Robin raised his shirt above his chest level. Robin's eyes widened as he saw fresh bruises beginning to form in numerous patches. There were also some older looking bruises, no doubt from his encounter with Slade in the Tower.

Wintergreen pressed lightly with his fingers near Robin's ribcage. Robin was surprised by the cry of pain that escaped his mouth and he bit his lip, _hard_, in the attempt to hold back any more outbursts. The pain was terribly sharp and the throbbing intensified after Wintergreen touched the spot. It had been quite a long while since Robin had an injury like this. He rarely ever got hurt since moving to Jump City.

After all, villains just couldn't hold their own against the Teen Titans – not to mention Jump City villains were so pathetic it wasn't even funny.

Besides Slade, of course.

"It's all right, child," said Wintergreen, his voice filled with kindness. "Don't hold back. You'll split your lip like that." He turned to glare at Slade, who was calmly sipping from his mug at the table through an opening in his mask. "Did you break this child's ribs?"

Robin tried to ignore the blow to his ego at the word 'child'.

"I might've," said Slade.

"_Might've?_" started Wintergreen incredulously. "I dare say you have and more than one, I think. This isn't good. He'll take weeks to heal these."

Robin got the distinct impression of a doting grandfather as he watched the way Wintergreen talked and moved. The old man seemed genuinely concerned for Robin's wellbeing, which was more than he could say for Slade – obviously. But Robin was surprised by the familiarity that Wintergreen had with Slade. It reminded Robin of Alfred and Bruce at times; although, Alfred was a bit warmer than Wintergreen. There was a certain feeling of 'no nonsense' coming from the older man that made Robin feel a bit wary of Wintergreen.

Still, Robin preferred Alfred for the obvious reason that he wouldn't be in this position then. He'd be back in Gotham City; safe from the hands of a psychopath. But Robin was here in Jump City and in Slade's kitchen; within the hands of a man who could do whatever he wanted to him.

A certain level of helplessness began to fill Robin's chest.

Slade gave Wintergreen a light shrug as he brought his mug to his mouth again. Robin caught a glimpse of a white goatee around the edges of his lips.

"You know what to give him," said Slade.

"That doesn't mean—" Wintergreen stopped midsentence, before letting out a long sigh. He clicked his tongue irritably and said grudgingly, "All right."

He patted Robin lightly on the arm. "Wait at the table and I'll bring you a… pain killer."

Wintergreen walked out of the kitchen and down the darkened hallway. Robin slowly made his way to a chair – unfortunately one next to Slade – and settled into it; huffing slightly in frustration. On the table in front of him was a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Slade's plate had the same thing, while the other plate had the appearance of being recently finished. Robin noticed that his plate was slightly overflowing in comparison to Slade's plate. Robin couldn't stop lifting his eyebrow dubiously.

Did the man _really_ think he – Robin, Richard Grayson; ward of the billionaire Bruce Wayne – was starving to death?

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Five: Helpless Before Omnipotence – Robin gets a dangerous lesson in true fear.

**Author's Notes:** Yes, because even with billions of dollars, there's never anything to eat. XD

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	5. Helpless Before Omnipotence

**Author's Note:** So, one week since launching this story. I said I would update on Fridays, but apparently I'm updating a bit more often than that. Would you lookie there… XD

ROTFL, I love that moment with Robin! So much food! XD And for the record, I love birds, too! I have a little blue parretlet. Such a little cutie, he is. And no it isn't the reason why I love writing about Robin. Seriously. He's just too cool and a perfect writing guinea pig. LOL

Oh my gosh, I cracked up so bad at 'waffle shield'! "Evil beware. We have waffles!" But since it's the first day of Robin's capture, I don't think he can quite take so much more. XD

As for the serum, well… Who knows… *smiles sweetly*

Oh, and pretend that Red X happened after Cyborg built the T-Car. XD I was looking over the episode list and I was like, "Really? _Really?_" Anyways, in this story, they've been a team for a year so I expect the dude would've made it by now. Aheh…

On with the story!

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**Chapter Five**

**Helpless Before Omnipotence**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:31 am.**

"Eat, Robin," said Slade smoothly, but the tone of his voice was deadly straight on one thing: _'Do as I say or else.'_

Robin held back a growl and grabbed his fork without a word, picking at his food resentfully. If this man thought he could just keep Robin here, then he had another thing coming. There was no way Robin was sticking around – he would escape. He had to no matter what. There had to be an exit somewhere. It was ridiculous for Slade to think he could trick Robin into thinking there wasn't a door out of here. Seriously, what residence didn't have a _door?_

Surely the man knew Robin was just a _little_ more intelligent than that.

"Food is meant to be eaten, not played with," scolded Slade. Robin slammed his fork down onto the plate; the metal clattering against the china surface. He pitted a fierce glare at the man, who was calmly eating his breakfast.

"You know what: _shut it_, Slade," snapped Robin. "Quit telling me what to do. You're not in charge of me, you're not my teacher, you're not my mentor, and you're sure as heck not my father. So, just shut it."

The slap that cracked across his cheek wasn't as strong as the one earlier, but it still hurt terribly. Robin bit his bottom lip in pure hatred and aggravation, putting the back of his hand to the stinging cheek. Swiping his cheek once, he glared at Slade; wishing he had the energy and power to strangle Slade for just one minute.

One minute wouldn't kill the man, after all.

"Keep it up, Robin," said Slade in a terribly frightening tone. "There are still plenty of bones left to break in your body, and _no one_ to hear your screams."

Chills went down Robin's spine.

This man was serious – _deadly_ serious. He meant business; that much was apparent. Robin's heart began to thump rapidly against his chest. It was rare when Robin felt fear. There had been a few times when he had gone on patrol with Batman that he had felt that terrible oppressive feeling of pure terror in his heart from a criminal. Very few men managed that fear with Robin.

Slade was now one of those men.

Robin squirmed in his seat under the dark look that Slade was giving him. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing once. Slade set his fork down lightly onto the plate and devoted his entire attention to Robin; resting his elbows onto the table's surface as he gazed over his intertwined fingers. Robin felt another shiver go down his spine – like icy water sliding over his skin.

"You seem to still be under the impression that you're an adult and as such may act like one. Let me correct this assumption: you are not – you are a child," said Slade slowly, emphasizing his last sentence carefully.

"I'm not a child!" snapped Robin. "Stop talking down to me, Slade. Geez, I've fought crime for seven years now. I'm not just some little kid."

"If you're not an adult or a child, what are you, then? A duck, perhaps?" Slade tilted his head slightly and Robin got the distinct impression that the man was smirking beneath his mask. "No, a little birdie, hm?" suggested Slade slyly.

"I'm _not_ a child," hissed Robin through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but you are; and as such, you don't have the wisdom your elders do."

"I don't want any of _your_ wisdom," growled Robin, his temper flaring from within his chest. Words plunged from his mouth in his frustration and irritation. "I've told you that. Can't you get that through that head of yours or is that steel mask blocking the blood to your brain?"

Oh, he shouldn't have said that.

The instant the insult fell from his lips, he wished he could take it back. Fear took over his body as he cowered before the infuriated man next to him. Robin thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. Slade stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring.

Holy Eiffel Tower, the man was tall.

Robin fell backwards off the side of the chair, his legs on the seat. He scuttled away; the chair toppling over onto its back. Slade's presence was terrifying. In that moment, Robin thought the man was going to kill him. He could just feel the fury emanating from the man's core.

Slade harshly kicked the chair aside. It smashed into the wall; the top of the chair splintering slightly. Robin's thumping heart was pounding so furiously against his chest, he thought it would collapse from its intensity. He had to get away. Slade was going to kill him – he was sure of it. Robin pushed his feet against the tile floor, trying to back away from him. His sock covered feet slipped beneath his urgency and he didn't put much distance between him and his horrifying enemy.

Slade took one stride towards Robin.

"Wait—Slade—I'm—I didn't—" stammered Robin, nearly petrified before the man. Slade bent down and backhanded Robin across the face; the pain almost blinding him for a moment. Then, with a terrible vice grip, Slade clamped his hand around his neck, dragging him to his feet. For the second time that morning, Robin gasped for breath as his wind pipe was obstructed. He could feel himself being lifted slightly into the air, the balls of his feet barely touching the floor.

"Now, I understand this new situation is… _difficult_… to say the least," started Slade in a low, sinister tone. Robin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as another shiver went down his back. "But you're an intelligent kid – you learn pretty fast. I'll be lenient with you if you merely apologize for your atrocious behavior."

Robin gasped, struggling to breathe in spite of the chocker hold on his throat. His brain wasn't working correctly. He was going to die – he was sure of it. Chocked to death by a masked psychopath. Apologizing seemed impossible.

"What is going on here?" questioned Wintergreen in an even, yet slightly annoyed tone. Robin managed to turn his gaze to the older man, who was standing at the entrance of the hallway. He had a syringe in his hand.

"Just waiting for a little apology from my dear apprentice," said Slade, his grey blue eye sending a hard glare at Robin. Wintergreen appeared content with this answer; even seeming to agree with it and he looked expectantly at Robin.

Robin closed his eyes, still gasping and struggling in Slade's unmoving hold. He had never felt this helpless in his entire life – struggling before his enemy; completely in his power. That was something new to Robin. He had always been the one in control – the one with power despite the fact that he was just a normal human without any superpowers to speak of.

_Just apologize. Say you're sorry. You can do this. It's not that hard. Won't kill you. Just words – just two words. Then he'll let you breathe again; he won't kill you._

"…_sorry_…" rasped Robin as loud as he could, which was only a soft, tiny whisper. "…_I'm_…_ sorry_…"

Slade dropped him. Robin collapsed to the floor, taking gulping gasps as he struggled to send air to his brain. His head began to pound viciously in protest from his lack of oxygen. Robin curled up onto his side, coughing harshly. Bright stars blinked in his closed eyes. Slade left him there, walking to the chair he had kicked away and setting it back near the table. He sat down in his seat without another word. Wintergreen sighed, shaking his head lightly as he walked over to Robin.

"Stand please; when you can," said Wintergreen gently, holding the syringe in his hand. Robin struggled to get to his feet. His pounding head was making everything far more difficult. It felt as if someone was constantly rocking him and dully hitting his forehead. Robin's balance was off as he rose and Wintergreen offered him some support when he swayed. The old man slowly helped him to his chair. Robin's eyes focused on the syringe and he suddenly grew extremely wary.

"Wha—what is that?" asked Robin; his voice raspy and hoarse.

"Pain killer," said Wintergreen. Robin narrowed his eyes. He could see the liquid inside – clear, with a few round crimson particles and numerous air bubbles. It seemed thick to Robin.

"Doesn't look like a pain killer to me," said Robin suspiciously, his voice still cracking. Wintergreen seemed to hesitate at this.

"It's my own formula," said Slade, before Wintergreen could reply. "I created it."

Robin raised an eyebrow and said incredulously, "And you expect me to allow you to stick me with a needle that has something _you_ created? Are you crazy?"

"Yes, I do and might I remind you that you're skating on thin ice here, _boy_," said Slade, his visible eye glinting dangerously. "_Don't_ push me."

"Truly, it is what he says it is," said Wintergreen, trying to sound reassuringly. "It's quite safe…" Wintergreen trailed off for a moment, before looking at Slade. "Are you sure it'll work with the child?"

"Positive."

Robin grew alarmed. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded promptly, glancing nervously between the two men. Wintergreen gently grabbed his bare arm, readying the syringe.

"Ho—hold up!" cried Robin, pulling away from the old man.

"Child, please—"

"Robin," snapped Slade, interrupting Wintergreen. "You're to take that pain killer or so help me, I'll give you more than enough reasons to wish you had listened."

Robin swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of his increasingly dry throat. He knew full well what Slade's reasons would be. His stubbornness and rebellious side screamed at him to not listen to Slade – to just bolt out of there faster than the T-Car at top speed. But his logical side was telling him that, for his self preservation, he better not. His options were quite simple, it seemed. Either get stuck with an unknown substance or get the crap beaten out of him.

Such lovely options.

"Al—all right…" murmured Robin, turning his head away and relaxing his arm. He felt the sharp pinch of the needle a moment later. Then, he felt a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

"All finished. You should begin to feel its effect soon," said Wintergreen. "Now, please eat something. You're much too thin."

"I'm not thin," huffed Robin, feeling emotionally exhausted from the events. The pounding in his head hadn't let up yet.

"Oh, please," started Wintergreen sardonically, folding his arms and looking down at Robin with an amused expression. "If I look at you from the side and squint, you disappear." He pointed to the food in front of Robin.

"Eat."

Robin let out a sigh before obeying. He gathered some eggs onto his fork and took a bite. It was cold. Well, he wasn't surprised by that. There had been quite a bit of activity and none of it good. He wordlessly shoveled the eggs into his mouth slowly, uncaring about the temperature. His mind raced with his thoughts.

How the _heck_ was he supposed to escape?

Slade seemed completely omniscient and all powerful. He had never realized before just how powerless he was against the man – by himself, that is. Perhaps if he had been with the Titans, they might've had a chance in taking him down.

But he was alone – completely and utterly alone.

And Robin knew it.

Being a loner wasn't something too new to Robin. It was in his nature to do things on his own, just like he had when he tried to sneak his way into Slade's plan as Red X. Bruce was always a loner as well and Robin found himself adopting such ways. It obviously wasn't a good policy, since it had blown up in his face. Even after a full year as the leader of the Teen Titans, he was still failing miserably at the job.

He had just been so used to being alone.

Although, it didn't make him enjoy it.

Secrets, reclusiveness, work driven – things Robin had developed under the tutelage of Bruce. But those skills were useless here. There was seriously no way to overpower Slade by himself – he was totally helpless before the man.

Robin was overwhelmed with thankfulness that he was wearing a mask. His eyes were burning with the desire to cry. He had never hated being alone this much before – not even after his parents died. The despair was threatening to suffocate him in a far stronger grip than Slade's iron chocker. He squeezed his eyes shut without any other movement on his face, not wanting to show his feelings to the other men in the room. He just _couldn't_ let himself cry. Not now, not here, not Robin.

No.

No, he couldn't give up. He'd find a way – he _had_ to find a way. He'd escape and when he did, Robin would slap the man with kidnapping charges so fast, it'd make his head spin. He'd find a way out of this mess one way or another. He'd bide his time carefully – outwit the master tactician and strategist at his own manipulative game.

He was Robin, after all – the Boy Wonder. The leader of the Teen Titans.

He just had to escape.

**Next Time:** Chapter Six: Prepared Efforts – Robin gets a glimpse of just how much his arrival had been anticipated.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** My favorite Wintergreen line is in this chapter. XD It's something I'd totally say, too. Robin's such a scrawny little runt. A scrawny runt that can kick my butt… But he really should avoid that since his fate is in my fingers. :P

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	6. Prepared Efforts

**Author's Note:** I appreciate all the awesome reviews! Thank you so much! ^-^ I'm glad you're all enjoying it so much. ^^

So, about the timeline. To be frankly honest, I have _no_ idea what the timeline is with Robin and stuff. I've seen things where his parents die when he's six, then I saw at eight, then I saw at ten. So, I have no idea. So, I chose eight years old. Then, I have Robin leave Batman at thirteen. He goes solo for a year and then at fourteen the Teen Titans come together. So, at the start of this story, Robin has been the leader of the Teen Titans for a whole year. That's probably different than canon, but it's not really clear even in the TV show. And TV Robin does _not_ seem thirteen to me.

Beast Boy does, though… XD

As for the other Robins, they won't even appear in this story. I know little to nothing about them anyways. XD This story is solely on Robin/Dick Grayson and Slade as the main characters, with Wintergreen as a very close secondary, and the Teen Titans plus others as supporting characters. Yes, yes, Teen Titans are supporters. XD

As for the subject of the serum, no immortal zombies were injured in the making of this fanfic. XD LOL. Yeah, no. No immortal Robin in this. Nope, nope. That's a whole other plot to deal with; pun _intended._

And man, I always crack up when reviews ask if I'll torture Robin more. XD So funny!

Also, more excellent news to ease your hearts: I will be finishing this no matter what. ^^ I ain't got an outline for nothing. ^_^ Which, bytheway, is 52 chapters long. We got a long way to go~!

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Prepared Efforts**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 8:43 am.**

With newfound hope and zeal in his heart, Robin finished off the food on his plate. He had to admit, the old man was a decent cook. A little overkill on the portions, but not a bad cook at all. Robin felt pleasantly full. His headache had faded away nicely and he noticed that he wasn't in so much pain as earlier. What Wintergreen had given him must've really been a pain killer after all.

For a brief moment, he was content.

However, with the lack of anything to do, Robin began to feel edgy. Biding his time was easy to say, but he honestly wasn't sure what was expected of him.

So, he continued to sit in his chair. A fleeting wish for the power of invisibility ran through his thoughts. He didn't need super strength – he was strong. He didn't need flight – he could through acrobatics. But if he had invisibility, enemies wouldn't know what hit them. Robin held back a smirk. Now that was an enjoyable thought.

Slade was silent as he stood and left the room. Robin's eyes watched him warily as the man walked to the closed door near the hallway and entered it; shutting the door behind him. Robin thought he heard a distinct _click_ of a lock.

Interesting.

Robin's head began to flood with scenarios on escape. That door probably held the way out. Else why would Slade lock it? Robin glued his eyes onto the door. Beyond that door lay his freedom – he was sure of it. He would show Slade that there was no way he could hold him captive for long.

After all, you can't cage a bird that was meant to be free.

"Look at me, child," said Wintergreen's voice. Robin blinked and turned his head towards the sound. Wintergreen was sitting in a chair with a damp cloth in his hand, observing him. He held up the cloth to show Robin.

"You still have some blood on your forehead and from your split lip," said Wintergreen, touching the cool wet cloth to Robin's forehead. Robin automatically laced his tongue over his lips. He tasted the metallic flavor of blood, but he couldn't find the cut anywhere.

"I don't have a split lip," said Robin, puzzled.

"You did," said Wintergreen, wiping firmly against Robin's skin. Robin narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

"What do you mean by…" Robin trailed off. He darkened his look as he stared at the old man. Realization dawned on him. "That wasn't just a pain killer, was it?" asked Robin in a slight accusing tone.

"Indeed it was not," replied Wintergreen. He moved the cloth to Robin's lips and continued, "It's a healing serum. Your broken ribs will be healed within another three minutes or so."

Robin's eyes widened.

"Slade created a healing serum? Not only that, it's fast acting?" asked Robin, incredulous and somewhat impressed. _The man must be a genius,_ thought Robin, unable to quench the awe he felt. He had never heard of anyone who had been able to create such an amazing medical discovery. _But why doesn't he sell it or offer the formula to the medical community? It could save a lot of people's lives._

Well, it was really a rhetorical question. There was no way Slade would _help_ other people. Just no way. What was Robin even thinking – Slade helping people? The man would probably laugh outright at that. Probably would ask if Robin had a lose screw in that head of his.

"Slade is a man of many talents and abilities," said Wintergreen. "He is quite astounding, in fact."

"Why do you work for him?" asked Robin, as the man continued to wipe the blood away from his face. The man's hands were gentle, yet firm.

"He saved my life, I saved his," said Wintergreen, a light smile tugging at his wrinkled lips. "We thought it easier if we just stuck around each other. We have many war stories we could tell you. Besides, we became friends and I view him almost like a son to me. It's not like I'm working for him. I just stick around to keep him out of any _real_ trouble."

_So, Slade and Wintergreen were in the army together…?_

Robin snorted. "You haven't done a good job. Why do you allow Slade to do the things he does?"

Wintergreen stopped and turned his eyes down towards Robin, his eyebrow raised as his whole face lifted into incredulity.

"_Allow_ him? Dear child, do you not even get Slade at all? Have you ever known the man to allow anything to stop him? No, I'm just the… filter, you could say."

"You shouldn't aid him in my kidnapping," said Robin, hoping he could persuade the old man to his side of the matter. "You should let me go."

"I cannot. There's no exit out of this residence," said Wintergreen, continuing back to his cleaning of Robin.

"There can't be no exit. How else could I've gotten in here?" asked Robin dubiously.

"It was sealed off once Slade brought you here," answered Wintergreen. "Nothing can get in and nothing can get out. He is determined to train you as his heir and apprentice."

"But what about food?"

"We have enough supplies to last the three of us for five years. Slade prepared well. He's been planning this for a very long time."

_Yup, totally a stalker…_

"But you had fresh food this morning," countered Robin.

"Well, yes. I can still get fresh food. I have my ways for that," said Wintergreen, a smirk lifting his mouth.

"You could let me out through there…"

"I could not," said Wintergreen. "Not even Slade knows where I get the fresh supplies."

Robin raised his eyebrow and folded his arms. "Why don't I believe you?" said Robin. Wintergreen chuckled, his aged voice warm.

"Believe what you want, child."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" asked Robin, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. He supposed the old man used it to be endearing, but it was seriously getting on his nerves. How many times did he have to tell these thick headed men that he wasn't a child?

Wintergreen laughed deeply, his head tilted downward as his chest trembled with amusement.

"When you're as old as me everyone is a child to you," said Wintergreen with a wry smile.

"Even Slade?"

"Ah, well. Slade's a unique case," said Wintergreen, looking pensively to the side. "A part of me thinks that Slade never was a true child."

Feeling the conversation wasn't going in the direction he was going for – hence, his escape – Robin fixed the old man with a serious stare.

"You'll go to jail if you don't let me go."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. You know that. And if you don't let me go…" Robin hesitated, biting the interior of his lower lip. What he was about to say was, honestly, a flat out lie. But he was desperate. He had to do everything he could to escape this prison. "I just might imply that Slade was… less than virtuous with me."

_Oh_, he was walking on dangerous, slippery ice. But he was willing do try anything at that moment for the small chance it would work. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures and this definitely counted as a desperate time.

But it didn't work.

"Don't make me slap you, young man," said Wintergreen, sticking a fierce disapproving glance at Robin that made him want to wither away beneath it. "How dare you insinuate such a thing. Slade has nothing but pure intentions with you."

Robin gave the old man an incredulous stare.

An extremely wry smile spread across Wintergreen's face as he continued in a considering tone, "Well, pure is a relative term. But I assure you: you have nothing to fear of that sort. I suggest you obey him, though. Don't want a repeat of today, you know."

"If you let me go…" started Robin, "I won't press charges against you."

Wintergreen smiled warmly and patted Robin on the arm kindly.

"I appreciate that, child."

Robin opened his mouth; but, after a moment, closed it with a sigh.

He obviously wasn't going to get anywhere with the old man. Wintergreen seemed completely set in his ways with Slade. Robin couldn't believe that Slade even _had_ a friend. It was unnerving to see the human side of Slade.

He wasn't _just_ a criminal, he supposed.

"There, all cleaned now," said Wintergreen with a satisfied nod. He shot Robin a stern glare. "Don't get into any more trouble, young man. I particularly don't like cleaning blood off of children."

Robin clamped his tongue between teeth in the effort to hold back the retort he wanted to blast at the old man. Who did these two men think they were? He had gone for two years without adult supervision. The first year he had lived completely on his own before the Teen Titans came into his life. He could take care of himself, _thank you very much_. He had long since proven that he wasn't a child – no matter what Slade had to say on that subject.

Robin did _not_ like being talked down to – not at all.

Nonetheless, Robin forced a fake smile on his face to placate the old man. It seemed as if it did because Wintergreen patted Robin lightly on the arm.

"Put your dishes in the dishwasher and I'll show you to your room afterward."

Robin gathered his dishes and stood up from the table, walking over to the dishwasher that was built into the countertop. He opened it and carefully placed the dishes inside. He turned to see Wintergreen waiting by the hallway, which was now lit.

"Follow me, please," said Wintergreen, turning down the hallway. Robin followed him, glancing once more at the locked door that Slade had gone down.

His freedom laid beyond that door – it just had to be.

Robin quickened his steps to match Wintergreen's longer strides. The older man was much taller than him, but not quite as tall as Slade's towering height. Robin noticed a bathroom on the right side before reaching a door right at the end of the hallway. Wintergreen stopped abruptly and Robin had to avoid bumping into the old man. The hallway forked and Robin could see a few more closed doors on both sides and ends of the hallway.

"This room is yours," said Wintergreen, opening the door, which had a label that said 'Robin' on it, in front of them. Wintergreen motioned for him to enter. Robin stepped into the white walled room, his eyes gazing and taking it all in.

Two feet to the right of the door, forward towards the corner, lay a four poster full-sized bed. The wooden poles rose to Robin's chest level and the bed itself had a thick, dark blue comforter. Next to the bed was an end table with a lamp and a digital alarm clock. Next to the end table was a mahogany desk with a simple wooden chair. Robin turned his head to the left and saw a tall three drawer dresser next to the door. Past that, Robin could see an open door that seemed to lead to a bathroom.

"This…" Robin trailed off, feeling a little startled by the extravagant looking furniture. He honestly hadn't been expecting much. He had imagined some prisoner cell, complete with little scuttling mice. His hand lifted subconsciously, touching the beautiful wood of the poster ends of the bed.

"Slade prepared this room for you," said Wintergreen, looking approvingly over the room. "You'll find clothing in the dresser – in your size, of course."

_Slade prepared this for me?_

Robin marveled at that fact. He quietly walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Inside were a number of t-shirts of multiple colors. He pulled one out and checked the size.

Yup – his size.

There were a couple of styles of shirts as well. Robin continued to observe the contents. There had to be at least thirty shirts, if not more, in there, including a number of pajama shirts. Puzzled, Robin closed the drawer and opened the second. Inside this drawer were a number of types of pants and shorts. Dress, jeans, slacks, sweats, pajamas – Robin was amazed by the volume of the collection.

Robin closed the drawer and moved onto the final drawer. There were numerous articles on underclothing, along with just as many pairs of socks. Robin wordlessly shuffled through some of them before closing the drawer.

What was the man playing at? How the _heck_ did he know Robin's size and taste? Not to mention, there was a ton of clothing here – a complete wardrobe.

"There are a few more articles of clothing in the closet here," said Wintergreen, walking past Robin to stop next to the dresser. Wintergreen opened the folding door of a closet.

"There's _more?_" Robin couldn't stop the question from leaving his mouth. Wintergreen gave him an amused look.

"Well, of course."

Growing ever more bewildered, Robin stepped to stand next to the older man to peer into the closet. Inside the closet, were a number of jackets of different types on hangers. There were a few button down dress shirts, along with a few suits; complete with a number of ties. Robin's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a Kevlar suit that had the appearance of an apprentice outfit – however, the style was unlike anything Robin had ever seen before. Lastly, at the bottom of the closet were a number of different types of shoes and boots.

Despite the unpleasant apprentice suit, Robin was surprised by his feeling of amazement over the complete collection.

Slade _had_ been prepared for him.

Robin closed the door to the closet, a whirlwind of emotions beginning to slip through his veins.

He had always felt like he had been a charity case to Bruce. While he knew that was stupid, he just couldn't help but feel that way. Robin always felt that Bruce had taken him in because the man felt that it was his fault for the deaths of Robin's parents, since it had been at a charity event he'd been hosting. Robin could still remember the first time he was taken to a large mall to supply him his needs.

He hadn't enjoyed that trip very much. Robin could remember his wishing that he could see his mother's smile just one more time – even if she were embarrassing him over what type of underwear he should use so loud that every other customer in the store could hear her. The shopping trip with Bruce had just intensified the feeling of his terrible depression over the deaths of his parents and of being a burden to a man who he barely knew and who barely knew him in return.

But, of course, that was stupid. Bruce was a generous man. But nonetheless, Robin could never shake off his own insecurities.

But this…

Slade had prepared for him beforehand. He had expected and prepared for Robin – he actually _wanted_ him. He wasn't taking him in because he had to.

Of course, the idiot _had_ kidnapped Robin to bring him here – there was no denying that much. Nonetheless, Robin couldn't help but feel a little warmth in his heart. It was a conflicting and strange feeling. He just couldn't understand the man. First, he was cold as ice – a complete controlling nut case, and then he showed such deep consideration. Robin was confused, to say the least.

Slade truly had been prepared for Robin.

Now that was extremely confusing.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Seven: Knowledge is Power – Robin continues to find out the extent of Slade's seemingly endless knowledge.

**Author's Notes:** Ah, more excellent Wintergreen funny moments. I think he's becoming the comic relief. XD

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	7. Knowledge is Power

**Author's Note:** Once again, I appreciate all the awesome reviews. Thank you so much! ^-^

Just a formal announcement, my update days will be officially: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. ^^ Yup, that's right – three times a week. I even have it all projected and everything in my fancy excel spreadsheet. Hehe! Yes, I'm organized! LOLOL.

Oh my gosh, 'Northern Star' by **Hanna Sedai** is _AWESOME_. Was such a stunning read. Good stuff.

Haha, I must be crazy. Seriously nuts – writing fanfiction when I _should_ be finishing my original novel. I guess that'll come afterwards. XD

You know, I think my version of Wintergreen is a little bit more grandfatherly and meddling. Just wait for it – he gets funnier. LOL. Oh, and I must agree: Slade is the ultimate in stalker creeperisms.

Oh my, more torture requests! ROTFL!

Oh and **Swallow Tale**, you never fail to make me giggle and laugh. Just saying. XD A chocolate cookie sounds good right now…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Knowledge is Power**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 9:04 am.**

"If you're missing anything, just let me or Slade know, and it'll be supplied to you," said Wintergreen.

Robin fought to give the man an incredulous look. More? Who needed this much, let alone _more?_ Even during the time he'd been with Bruce, Robin had felt uncomfortable with the massive wealth he experienced daily. His family hadn't been well off, but they'd had an simple, yet enjoyable lifestyle. His mother had instilled in him a sense of frugality from a young age and there were many times during the past year with the Titans that Robin went crazy over their spending habits – especially when Starfire had those mall sprees she loved so much.

But there was something different compared to Bruce taking him to the store and ordering countless items – most of which, Robin never got to wear – to Slade preparing for his arrival beforehand. The clothes Slade had chosen were a reasonable amount and Robin couldn't get over the feeling that the man had gone out of his way to get them for him.

It felt… kind of nice—

Robin caught himself. He was falling into a trap. Slade was manipulating his feelings. The man was a master at it, after all. Slade had only been trying to prepare for his apprentice – not Robin himself. He couldn't allow Slade to entice him like this; lead him into a sense of false security. Robin was falling into dangerous waters if he allowed himself to be manipulated. He had to stay strong. He had to escape. He had to get back to the Titans.

They still needed him.

"You should get dressed into something more comfortable," said Wintergreen, turning to face Robin. The old man gave him a warm pat on the arm before leaving the room. At the doorframe, he said, "If you need anything, just let me know."

The door closed behind him.

Robin waited a few moments before checking the door handle. It was unlocked. Sighing in relief slightly, he turned back to his—no, _the_—dresser and pulled out a complete outfit. He quickly shed his pajamas; slipping into a pair of black slacks and a dark blue t-shirt. He grabbed a pair of black work boots from the closet and sat down on the chair with a pair of fresh socks. He quickly fitted his feet inside them, lifting his each foot into the air and flexing it as he observed the effect of the boots.

Pretty decent.

Robin had to admit: the man had good taste. From what Robin could gather, none of the clothes were any major expensive designer brands, yet they were of the very best material – long lasting. Robin set his feet to the floor and leaned on his folded arms to look around the room again.

He felt a bit at a loss.

He had to come up with a plan – a plan to outwit Slade and escape. Outfighting the man wasn't an option at the moment. He could still vividly remember the man's iron gripped hand around his neck; subconsciously putting a hand to his throat as the memory flashed in his mind. Slade had the raw power to kill him. The man didn't need a gun to do it – he could snap Robin's neck as easily as if he were a tiny, helpless mouse.

With a sigh, Robin stood up and walked to the bathroom; flipping the light switch on. The bathroom was decently sized with a light blue marble countertop, with a sink, at the left of the door. On the back of the wall was the toilet; next to that was a bathtub with a removable shower head. Robin frowned as he lean closer to the shower supplies on the ledge of the tub.

His exact brand of shampoo and unscented soap – he hated that extreme perfumey junk.

Robin turned to look into the medicine cabinet behind the large mirror. There was a toothbrush of his liking along with the brand of toothpaste he always used. Robin's heart rate began to climb. He quickly checked a few of the drawers, and found a razor, the shaving cream he normally used – not that he needed it often – and a tub of his usual hair gel. He also found numerous miscellaneous items such tweezers and nail clippers. Robin shut the drawer and collapsed onto the closed lid of the toilet; resting his elbows on his legs and placing his face into his hands.

Slade knew his grooming preferences.

How the _freaking heck_ did the man know his grooming preferences!?

Slade's words from earlier flooded through his mind. _'It's the only way I know everything. Knowledge is power, after all.'_

A chill slipped down Robin's back.

What else did the man know? How could he have known something so private that not even the other Teen Titans knew? There were no cameras inside the Titans' rooms – that crossed off the possibility of hacking into the system, which Robin wouldn't put past Slade. So, how did the man find out? What if he installed his own cameras into Titans Tower?

A shudder shook Robin's entire body. He found himself overwhelmingly thankful that he was the paranoid type. In the two years that he had left Gotham City, he had not once removed his mask. Even going at it alone during that first year, he had never taken the mask off. If Slade had cameras in Titans Tower, then he could've seen anything.

And it wasn't as if Slade had taken things from out of Robin's bathroom – everything was brand new here.

Knowledge was power – Slade was absolutely right. And at that very moment, Robin felt extremely paranoid. He felt extremely afraid as well. Just how much did Slade know? What wasn't he telling Robin? How much did he know about Robin? Did he, perhaps, know about Robin's true identity and from there deduced Batman's identity?

And the Teen Titans…

What did he know about them? What if he knew their secrets and weaknesses? Honestly, it wasn't that hard to figure out if you watched them on a daily basis, which it was becoming rapidly apparent to Robin that Slade did.

_Oh, geez. The man really is a stalker! He's a total creeper!_

Robin curled his arms around his waist as a shiver went through him.

He was worried – becoming speedily more frightened as the minutes passed with his rampant thought process. He was worried for his friends' safety. Slade could do anything to them. It probably hadn't been a smart idea to set up a giant tower in the shape of a 'T' over the bay. It screamed _"Come and infiltrate me!"_ But Robin had been determined when the Teen Titans were formed to prove to Bruce that the man was too paranoid and too secretive.

That was the thing.

Bruce avoided too much contact with others. He never really grew closer to other people – pushing them away. No matter how often Robin had tried to build over the emotional gap between them, Bruce broke it down time after time. Friends only dragged people down, putting them in danger.

That was Bruce's policy.

Robin had been determined to prove him wrong. For the first time, he had real friends and he didn't want to let them go. He was so thankful for them – thankful that he had met them. He'd been sure that they could overcome any villain if they worked together as a team.

But obviously, Robin still had secretive and loner issues. Because he hadn't been thinking straight, he put himself in a terrible position and now had even been kidnapped. But it had been instilled inside of him for five years – the secrets. He was still getting used to being a leader of a group – not to mention, a group of teens who each were diversely different in every way; in appearances, abilities, and personalities.

Besides, he was only fourteen years old.

Who expected of a fourteen year old to be a leader of a group of vigilantes?

Robin leaned down, resting his face on his legs; his arms still hugging his waist.

What to do… What could he do? The 'not knowing' was beginning to drive him crazy. His feelings were far worse than they had ever been before during his obsessive study of Slade. Now he had a perfect look into the man's living residence and Robin couldn't stop the pure terror that was beginning to flood through him. He was now fully aware of just how much Slade might know. He had never realized the possibility that the man could've been stringing him along all this time.

Slade was powerful.

Far more powerful than Robin had ever given him credit for.

Robin sat up, taking a deep cleansing breath. He let it out slowly, breathing in deeply once more. He had to calm down. He had to remain calm – no matter what. If his mind became feverish with worry and paranoia, then he wouldn't be able to think properly. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted a chance of escaping. He took another moment to regulate his breathing to relax his body, before standing up, shutting off the light, and leaving the bathroom.

It was time to do a little exploring.

Robin walked to the door and tested the handle again, feeling another bout of paranoia strike him. It was still unlocked. He had been pretty sure that Slade would lock him up for hours when the man didn't want to deal with him. Luckily, the door opened and Robin gazed down the lit hallway for a long moment.

All was quiet.

Robin slipped out of the room and closed the door without a sound. Glancing between the two sides of the hallway, he choose to go to the right; seeing one door all the way at the end of the hall and another on the same side as Robin's door.

Robin slowly walked by, first coming to the door on the end side of the wall. It had a label of 'Slade' on it. Robin was flooded with a mixture of morbid curiosity and detective intentions as he stared at the label. The man would probably be furious if he caught Robin snooping in his room, but there wasn't much time to consider it, since Robin's hand was on the handle and turning the knob.

Locked.

_Of course. Like the man is stupid enough to leave his room unlocked with me unsupervised in his haunt,_ thought Robin incredulously, mentally shaking himself for his stupidity.

He turned his gaze to the end of the hallway and continued to the very end. The door had no label and once again, it was locked as well. Sighing a bit irritably, Robin whirled around and walked back to his bedroom door. He continued down the hall past his door to see another door, like Slade's, but this time with the label of 'Will' on it. Robin didn't bother to check the older man's door. The old man was the only one not hitting or choking him and Robin didn't feel like pushing the old man to that point.

The unlabelled door at the end of this side of the hallway was locked as well. Biting back a growl, Robin whirled back around and walked back to his door, before turning down the main part of the hallway towards the kitchen. He stepped quietly and carefully, finally edging along the wall to peek into the kitchen.

It was empty.

Robin eased up slightly and turned his eyes to the door next to the hallway – the one he was sure held his freedom. He stood directly in front of it, glaring at the door knob as if daring it to be locked. He tried the handle – just for the heck of it.

It opened.

Blinking in surprise, Robin slowly pushed the door all the way open. He could've sworn the door had been locked. The door revealed deep stairs that were leading downward; bending as it reached the back of the wall and descending further downward to the right.

Robin carefully stepped down the stairs, making no sound as he descended. The stairs led deep down into the ground. As the ceiling began to pass Robin's steps, he heard fighting noises. Once the ceiling reached his knees, he crouched and gazed down into the room.

Slade was wielding a bō-staff; engaging five of his robots. They looked far different than the ones Robin had seen and fought before. Their armor looked far more sophisticated and their movements less clumsy. Robin narrowed his eyes as he watch them. They were more advanced for sure; each movement calculated and humanlike in the fight against Slade. The robots' movements reminded Robin of that futuristic action movie he'd seen about a cop investigating a murder that supposedly had been committed by a robot. Yet, these robots were distinctly Slade's creation – that much was apparent with the blatant S symbol on their chests and with the rich colors of silver, black, and red. Robin had to wonder if he could handle _one_, let alone five.

Which brought Robin to watch Slade's movements. Slade was completely dominating the fight with the five robots. His opponents couldn't even land a hit on him. His staff kept them at bay, his movements powerful and exact. Robin found himself enthralled by the fight; slipping down a few steps to sit on one to watch with his hands resting on the railing. His eyes were wide in amazement. He had never seen someone so skilled in a fight – not even Batman.

Right before Robin's eyes lay a man who was a master fighter; a master martial artist; a master in battle.

Slade had perfect agility and speed. He almost seemed inhuman. The bō-staff spun rapidly as he swung it at an attacking robot; kicking another immediately afterward; before thrusting the staff backwards, without looking, into the abdomen of a third robot. One of Robin's legs slipped through railing to hang in the air, the other one following afterward. He set his arms on the somewhat slanted railing; resting his chin on his folded arms as he continued to watch the man.

Time passed as Robin forgot who exactly this man was to him; spellbound by the fight.

Moments slipped by easily as Robin took in every attack, every swing, every kick, every punch – every single movement of the battle with eyes that soaked it up like a sponge. The longer he watched, the more Robin realized there was no possible way he could ever, _ever_ overpower the man in a pure fight alone.

Slade was just that good.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Eight: Opportunity to Learn – While sparring a bit with Slade, Robin learns a few more things.

**Author's Notes:** It really does: Titans Tower SCREAMS "Come and infiltrate me!" LOLOL. Oh, and I must say, for myself, I love the final moments of this chapter that show Slade's power. ^-^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	8. Opportunity to Learn

**Author's Note:** Oh my gosh! Two weeks since initial release. So many awesome reviews in that time – I truly appreciate it all. Thank you so much! ^-^

Oh please. I haven't even bothered to watch it yet. When a show is only 11 minutes long, you know the animators and writers are just being plain lazy. Completely lame. Not to mention the really pathetic chibi look. I mean, don't get wrong. Love the chibi look, but NOT for a whole show time. Really, our American cartoons are just getting more and more mindless. No plots, no character developments – just silly moments to get a laugh. It's totally mind numbing.

Anyways…

*Anthy looks at Robin* "You know, they must really hate you. Four people are _begging_ for your torture."

*Robin folds his arms in a huff* "That's _your_ fault, you know."

*Anthy shrugs* "True. But honestly, there is a method to all this madness. See?" *Anthy shows Robin the outline. Robin's eyebrows narrow near midway*

"Oh, no, no, no, no, _no!_ You are _not_ doing _that_ to me!"

*smiles happily* "Oh, but I think I am. Oh, don't worry. It won't be too bad…"

*Robin goes pale with a hint of embarrassment in his cheeks* "Yo—you can't! That's the _worst_ thing _ever!_ I rather get my arm broken!"

"Hehe, you have no say in anything anymore. I'm so sorry."

*giggles madly*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Opportunity to Learn**

Slade lifted a hand in the air and shouted, "End sparring sequence."

The robots ceased their fighting immediately; backing away and lining up at a wall. Robin blinked, surprised as Slade glanced up at him. He scrambled to his feet, getting tangled for a brief moment in the bars of the railing. He stepped down the rest of the stairs hesitantly before stopping as he reached flat concrete ground. Slade's chest heaved once in a deep breath, the bō-staff still in his hand.

He then tossed the staff to Robin, who expertly caught it. Slade detached another bō-staff from his belt, before expanding it. He readied himself into a stance and motioned a welcoming hand to Robin.

"So, what do you think of your room?" asked Slade, beginning to circle Robin slowly. Robin returned the movement, stepping a few feet away from the stairs.

Robin wasn't sure what to say. While he was impressed with it, he was also afraid of what it meant. He wasn't staying here – that much he was sure of. He didn't want Slade to know his every living detail. He didn't want him to know the other Titans' either.

But after what he just saw, Robin was even more terrified that he would never be able to escape this man.

However, that didn't stop his stubborn, unruly mouth.

"Pretty nice, Slade," drawled Robin, smirking widely. "Same clothing size, same bathroom essentials – right down to the hair gel, expensive furniture; all in all, pretty nice. Stalker much, Slade? Although, honestly; you always came across as the cheap type to me. I was definitely sur—"

Slade bolted towards Robin suddenly at top speed, cutting him off midsentence. His staff swung with a terrible _whoosh_ through the air and connected against Robin's side. Pain erupted from the spot and Robin was thrown to the side, viciously tumbling against the ground until he came to a stop. Robin rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughing hard; his hands still clutching his bō-staff.

"Still haven't learned the lesson on respect, I see," said Slade, his voice low and frightening. "But what you really need to learn is gratitude."

Robin looked up at Slade with a furious glare.

"Gratitude? _Gratitude?_" snarled Robin, coughing once in between his tirade. "For what, exactly? Tell me, Slade: what the _heck_ am I supposed to be grateful for from my kidnapper? _Huh?_ There's _nothing_ to be grateful for from a _kidnapper!_"

Robin bit his tongue, his eyes widening behind his mask. He really needed to keep his mouth shut. It wasn't too smart to backtalk the man who could dominate him like a bug. Robin knew that. But his rebellious soul demanded to be free. It would not allow itself to be caged by this demon of power.

Slade lazily motioned to Robin's left with a tilt of his head towards the far wall on the opposite side of stairs. It was a door.

"See that door there?" questioned Slade. "In there is a dark, dank, cold personal dungeon of mine. You have a choice, Robin. You can choose to be pleasant about your new arrangements, enjoying the comforts and rewards that comes with that; or you can be unpleasant, which will only bring you punishment, pain, and discomfort. That little room will be a last resort of mine, but I must warn you: my patience _doesn't_ last long."

Robin exhaled through his nose as he pushed himself to his feet.

"So, what will you choose, Robin?" asked Slade, taking a step closer to him. Robin tensed, wincing slightly as small flash of pain rose from his side.

Dang it.

The man probably broke his one of his ribs again – that was the second time that day and it wasn't even noon yet. He stayed silent as he tentatively placed a hand to test the spot where Slade had attacked, waiting for the wince of pain he was sure that would follow. However, the pain was very light and, puzzled, Robin pressed harder.

The pain was slowly fading.

Seeing the perplexed look on Robin's face, Slade said, "That's the brilliance of the healing serum Wintergreen gave you." Slade readied himself into a stance, appearing to pounce at any moment. "For over an hour afterwards, you'll heal faster than normal. Perfect for an all out sparring session, don't you think?"

Slade rushed forward, swinging the staff towards Robin's side again. Robin blocked it, the metal _twanging_ as the two staffs the connected. His feet skidded against the floor against the sheer force of Shade's blow as he struggled to hold his own with his strength. Slade's power was overwhelming. The staffs disconnected, smashing together again as another blow was swung towards Robin's shoulder.

Robin gritted his teeth. He could already feel the intensity from the man. He was being dominated in a test of strength. Slade pushed through the staffs, knocking Robin's aside and gaining an opening, which he used to swing into Robin's shoulder. There was a cry in pain as Robin was blown to the side; rolling out of the fall.

Robin jumped to his feet, trying to ignore the blaring pain that raged his shoulder. He was determined to fight back. If the man wanted a fight, he sure as heck was gonna give it to him. Slade swung the staff and Robin countered, spinning around and swinging his staff back at Slade.

The _clang_ of metal blasted in the room as the two staffs glanced off each other.

"Good, Robin," said Slade in a low, approving voice, before continuing with another swing. It connected with Robin's upper shoulder and he smashed into the wall. He dropped to his knees; the staff dropping from his hands as he clutched his shoulder. He hissed through his teeth at the pain.

Slade swung again; Robin rolled to the side, away from the wall; grabbing his staff and swinging upward. There was another _clang_. Robin swept his feet beneath his body towards Slade to bring the man to the ground. It was easily dodged before another _whoosh_ came for Robin's head.

Robin's eyes widened as he flipped backward in fear, crouching down on the ground afterward. He rolled out of the way again as the staff's end smashed onto the floor in the exact spot he'd been in only a second before.

"Attack, Robin. You can't always evade your enemy," said Slade.

"_I know that_," snapped Robin.

"Oh, really? Could've fooled me, Robin," drawled Slade.

Robin slowly stood, one hand supporting his aching shoulder and the other still clutching his staff; keeping a relaxed pose in the effect to show Slade he wanted to pause the fight.

"So, what now?" asked Robin. "Since you claim I won't ever be able to escape, what happens now?"

"You're curious as to your fate, is that it?" said Slade as he straightened his stance to a more relaxed one like Robin.

"Who wouldn't be? I just wanted to know what to expect from my… _kidnapper_."

"Isn't that cute. Well, I've much to teach you and we have all the time in the world to learn it. So, there's no need to be hasty, Robin. Come what may, as they say."

Robin stiffened, his grip on his staff going white from the intensity of his hold. His injured shoulder was already healing, the pain slipping away. He was irritated by Slade's flippant attitude over the situation. Kidnapping him was bad enough, but the unknown would be the greatest torture of all. Give him bruised shoulder any day.

"So, you're not gonna tell me my torture itinerary?" spat Robin bitterly, sending a deep glare towards Slade. There was silence between them for a few moments. Then, Slade let out a long sigh; his bō-staff retracting into its compact size. He attached it onto his utility belt before motioning to Robin to follow him.

"Come with me," said Slade. He turned away and walked towards a door in the room. Robin hesitated for a moment, before complying with the request; retracting his own bō-staff. As Robin walked after him, he took in the surrounding room that he hadn't had time to observe.

It was a very large training room, similar to what he had at Titans Tower. The roof was vaulted, hence the long decent Robin had experienced. There was plenty of equipment for all types of training from punching bags to an assortment of dumbbells. There was also a major all-in-one home gym system. There were a few benches along with a rack of water bottles.

What really surprised Robin was the complete gymnast set; including parallel bars, uneven bars, high bar, balance beam, a vault, and a pair of still rings – all perfect training supplies for the acrobat. Robin was amazing by the sheer volume. He was sure Slade wasn't an acrobat – he'd never seen the man do any of the flips that he could do.

So… that meant it had been all prepared solely for Robin.

Slade opened a door to the right of the stairs and entered, with Robin trailing after him silently. He wasn't sure what to expect from the man. He was confusing; all too confusing. The need for self preservation was becoming a strong motivation in everything that Robin did, especially after the fight he had witnessed from the man. It was far too obvious that the man held back with him, so much to even _let_ Robin land hits on him. Robin was all too aware of his powerlessness against Slade.

The room they entered had a strong appearance of a comfortable living room; brightly lit with a few tall lamps. There was a five seat corner sofa; brushed with dark brown leather and a number of comfortable pillows. There was a mahogany coffee table with a few books on it. At the right wall, there was a decent sized TV set on a wooden case, surrounded by other wooden cases. The wooden case on the left of the TV had a glass case with a number of entertainment systems. On the end of each side were expensive, older looking speakers, cased in wood.

Behind the sofa, was a small mini kitchen with a fridge and freeze combo and a microwave. Next to the fridge was a shelf of some dry foods and snacks.

Overall, the room had a true homey feeling. It surprised Robin greatly. He had always been under the impression that Slade was a villain, therefore, villains weren't people any more. But that obviously was a foolish thought.

"Sit down, Robin. Let's talk," said Slade, taking a seat on the sofa. Robin slowly walked the couch and took a seat on the other side of the sofa, comfortably far away from Slade, but not rudely far. The couch was soft, so unbelievably soft. Robin set his bō-staff onto the coffee table. He clasped his hands in his lap and began to stare down at them, as if finding them fascinating; in the effort to not look at Slade.

He had the strange notion that he was about to be given a long, very long lecture. It felt like those times Bruce had sat him down for long uncomfortable talks about misbehavior or even before then when Robin's father would lecture and scold him. But those old times with his father had always been done with love – firm love. Bruce had a coldness to him that always made Robin feel as if he could never repent for those misdeeds.

Robin couldn't help but wonder how Slade would make him feel.

The familiarity of the room was so strange. Sitting comfortably on a couch with Slade had to be the absolute oddest thing ever. A few awkward moments passed.

"Look at me, Robin," said Slade, his tone void of any malevolent tendencies. It was almost in soft coaxing. Robin swallowed slightly, before lifting his gaze upwards; settling his eyes on the man's plated armor around his shoulders.

"Robin," started Slade. "My 'itinerary' for you, as you say, has never included torture."

Robin's eyes flitted up to gaze into the man's grey blue eye.

"You're too pessimistic over this arrangement."

Robin glanced back down at his hands, holding back the angry retort that wanted to burst from his mouth. He wasn't within slapping distance, but Robin wouldn't put it past the man to stand up and do it.

Of course he was _pessimistic_ over this! He didn't _want_ to be here. He didn't want to live with a psychopathic creeper! If by some terrible misfortune Robin's stay here turned out to be longer than he wished, he was sure to miss his friends – he already missed them now. He would miss his job, his lifestyle – everything that he had established for himself over the past two years and more so over the past year.

"Try to think of this as an opportunity to learn," said Slade, leaning forward to rest his elbows onto his knees; his hands clasped together. "I know you relish in challenges. You could learn a lot here – far more than you could even imagine."

"I don't want to learn from you," murmured Robin.

"I know," said Slade, sounding almost empathetic. "But think of it as a forced boarding school, such as one as a father would send his son to attend."

"You're _not_ my father," retorted Robin. There was a low chuckle.

"Perhaps now, but who knows. I just _might_ become like a father to you."

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Nine: Respect and Burdens – Robin learns yet another lesson in respect and finds out a little more on Slade's point of view.

**Author's Notes:** One more chapter and the time line speeds up! ^-^

*Robin glares at Anthy* "You mean I don't escape on the first day?"

*Anthy smiles* "Nope!"

"But–but what about the Titans!"

"Oh please, they barely figured you were kidnapped. You really think they can find this place?"

"But—!"

*Anthy wraps an arm around Robin's neck; clasping a hand over his mouth*

"Shhh. It'll be all right—Oi! You lick me or bite me and Slade will be the _least_ of your problems."

*pause*

"You know, you really are quite short."

Alrighty, I'll stop with these impromptu conversions with Robin. XD Yes, compared to my 5.9 height, Robin is _quite_ the shorty.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	9. Respect and Burdens

**Author's Note:** So, I checked out some height stuff. The information I'm sure of is that Slade is 6.4. That's freaking tall. XD Cyborg is really tall, too – but he was a football player before his accident so doesn't surprise me. I found of scale height chart of the Titans, but I'm not sure if it's correct. I personally thought Robin was shorter than it said. Especially in that early episode when Cyborg says, "Yeah, it's four feet tall and smells like cheap hair gel." So, I honestly thought the kid was in the four feet range. Someone wanna help me on this? This only _sure_ info I have is Slade is _definitely_ 6.4.

To the guest that wants more emotional moments: That will _definitely_ come. I do have a nightmare moment I want to do, but that will come with time. Thanks for reminding me…

Remember, on the timeline, it's still the first _day!_ LOL. After all, I'm not expecting Robin to lose it on the first day. Starting chapter ten the timeline begins to speed up. Trust me, if you're looking for emotional moments, they'll be coming. I'm all about the character emotions and development. This isn't an action based fic – while there will be action scenes due to fighting/stupidity, it's mostly about all them wonderful feels. I hope to make your heart soar, tear, sob, laugh, giggle, and cry during this. And of course, gotta have some awes. ^^

Look forward to chapter thirteen. Emotional to the tenth power. Scheduled for May 8th. Gotta love the spreadsheet. XD

Oh, and I've officially projected at least 62 chapters. _That. Is. Not. A. Joke._ And that's not even the ending. Good day in the morning, we've got a looooong way to go.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Respect and Burdens**

_Father? A father?! As if!_

How _dare_ Slade even suggest a thing! How dare he even think that he was worthy to be like a _father_ to Robin. There was no way this man could ever be a father to him. The man was a _criminal_; a psychopath. It wasn't like he was normal or was an actual real person. Slade, his father? Ha! That was _insanity_. That was weird. That was crazy. That was _impossible_. Such a thing could _never_ happen.

Funny how sometimes in life the impossible can one day become possible.

"When pigs fly," snarled Robin.

"I was under the impression that your changeling friend has transformed into both a pig and a hummingbird," said Slade, his grey blue eye appearing to lift in a smirk. "Would you lookie there? I think we have a flying pig."

"Shove off, Slade. Don't insult my friends," snapped Robin, his hands tightening their grip on each other.

"Manners, boy," said Slade, his tone dropping to an icy one. "How many times do I need to remind you of that? Can't you have a pleasant conversation?"

"No. Not with _you_, anyways. And remind me after you let me out of this dump, all right?" said Robin spitefully, his tongue flying away with him. "I _don't_ want to be here. I need to go home. I need to get back to the Titans. I need to get back to my job. Jump City needs me."

"Really? Tell me, Robin: how old are you?"

"If you're all knowing as you seem to be, Slade," drawled Robin, lifting his shoulders and gesturing his arms exaggeratingly, "then, why don't you tell _me?_"

Slade sighed, shaking his head. He stood up and took one step to stand over Robin, who stiffened immediately when the man moved.

"You seem to insist on doing things the hard way," said Slade, taking a firm grip on Robin's underarm. Easily, he pulled Robin to his feet and began to drag him out of the room.

"Slade—what—?"

"Shut up."

Robin began to panic. He dug his feet into the ground and pulled back, not wanting to go anywhere with this man – nor did he want this man touching him. His struggles were weak compared to Slade's strength and they didn't even faze the man. Slade dragged him back into the training room, kicking the door open. He tossed Robin into the room. He pulled out his bō-staff, expanding it and dipping the edge to point at Robin's face before he had a chance to stand.

Robin's eyes couldn't go any wider.

"I've been quite decent through all this," said Slade, his tone bitingly sharp. "Truly, I've held my temper time and time again with you this morning. I've let you get away with quite a few snarky retorts, but I think now it's time you understand."

The staff lowered, prodding Robin in the forehead.

"You are to learn respect one way or another," said Slade in a dark, ominous voice; his tone ever so soft. "I assure you there is a less painful way of learning this, but since you lost that chance, it's time to employ a little more… harsher means. This will hurt – quite a bit."

The staff swung and crashed into Robin's temple before he had the chance to react. Dazzling stars blared in Robin's vision, coupled with a sharp, burning pain. He heard the _whoosh_ before it smashed into his back. He cried out in pain; rolling away along the floor in the effort to put some distance between him and his attacker.

Robin leapt to his feet in time to see another swing; he ducked and rolled away, breaking into a dart. Complete fear flowed through every fiber of his being. He had to get away. He had get away from Slade; the man meant business now.

He was going to get the crap beaten out of him.

He reached the stairs before a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, choking him momentarily as he was pulled back. Robin was slammed into the wall, pain bursting along his back from the harsh contact. A fist punched him in the stomach; causing him to collapse to the floor, gasping for breath in pain. Another _whoosh_ warned him a second before the pain exploded across his back; sending him flat onto the hard concrete floor. He groaned deeply.

"We have about another hour of this, you know," said Slade in a soft undertone. "One whole hour where you can be dipped into pain, only to heal moments later; and then back into a never-ending cycle of pain and healing."

Robin was grabbed by the hair and forced to look upward into the masked face of Slade.

"I keep telling you to learn, but you're too stubborn," hissed Slade; chills slid down Robin's back at the man's tone. "Pain is an interesting element, Robin. It is master over all – it is master over the will. How long can you last before your will submits to the pain in your body?"

Robin was grabbed by the throat and pulled to his feet, before being slammed against the wall again. Two swift blows; a backhanded slap and a punch to his stomach. Robin could taste the metallic copper flavor of blood over his lips. Slade grabbed him by the chin; his cheeks pinched in Slade's grasp.

"Let's try this again: how old are you, Robin?"

Robin was once again thankful for his mask. He was sure that if it had been removed, Slade would've seen the absolute terror and pain flooding through his eyes. Robin didn't want to answer. That would give Slade control. But it was obvious that the man _did_ have control. He had _complete_ control over him. Slade was right: this could go on for one long, terrible hour – a never-ending cycle of pain and more pain.

He was powerless against this man.

"…Fo—fourteen…" rasped Robin finally.

"Very good, Robin."

Robin closed his eyes briefly, feeling sick.

The pressure on Robin's chin lessened slightly.

"To continue our pleasant conversation from earlier – mind you, we could've done that without all this _unfortunate_ trouble – What makes you think Jump City needs you?"

"I'm… I'm the only one who can protect them," breathed Robin, still gasping through the pain. It was beginning to fade again, which he was greatly thankful for; nonetheless, he didn't really want to aggravate the man who was towering over him any more. His height compared to Slade made Robin feel very, _very_ young; almost truly like a little child. With over a foot in height difference, it made Slade extremely intimidating.

But Robin doubted he could keep his mouth shut for very long with his annoying hot and quick temper.

"Why? Why you? You're just a child."

"_I am not a child!_" hissed Robin, completely irritated by the term. He jerked away from Slade's grip. It was temporary, however, as Slade pushed Robin by the shoulder to smash against the wall again. Slade grabbed his chin again and forced him to look up at the man.

"Yes, you are. Think of it like this: what other fourteen year old fights crime daily?"

"Kid Flash," replied Robin swiftly. He was backhanded across the face before being forced again to look at Slade.

"Try again. And _not a vigilante_ in tights."

Robin tried to squirm under the hard grip that was squeezing his chin, but he failed. His cheeks burned terribly. The pressure intensified and his eyes began to water from it. His body was hot and sticky from the sweat that had begun to pour from his skin. His heart thudded against his chest.

"…n–no one…" said Robin finally; grudgingly.

"Exactly. Other children your age are enjoying the comforts of being a teenager. _They_ don't have adult burdens like being a leader of a team that goes out and acts like a special police force. _They_ go to school. They have _normal_ lifestyles."

"So what! I've never been _normal_," growled Robin.

"I never said you were normal, Robin. But who says you have to carry such a burden?" said Slade, his tone painfully soft. He leaned in closer to Robin's face, his voice turning to a whisper. "You can be freed from that burden, Robin. That is what I'm offering you."

Slade pulled back, letting go of Robin's face. Robin took that chance to turn his head away, staring at a spot on the floor. Slade's words were reverberating through his mind relentlessly. His chest lifted as he breathed deeply.

'_You can be freed…'_

Could Robin be freed from such a burden? He had seen the way Batman devoted himself to his work. He was practically buried in it. Patrols at night, office work during the day, charity events in the evenings – the man rarely even slept. Robin had developed that way of life far too easily after his parents' deaths, since it was the only way to hide from the empty loneliness they had left him with.

What was Bruce hiding from?

It _was_ a heavy burden to bear. The worry, the fear, the long nights, the fights – although those were thrilling, the paperwork, the pressure… Could Robin truly be freed from all that?

Did he want to be?

"It's not a burden," said Robin quietly, not looking up.

"Don't fool yourself and don't try to fool me, Robin. Of course it's a burden."

"It's not. It's not, really," repeated Robin. "Somebody has to protect the innocents from criminals like _you_. Someone has to protect—"

Robin punched again in the stomach; a cry bursting unwillingly from his mouth from its sudden attack. He doubled over, coughing before he was lifted up and backhanded across the face. Robin closed his eyes against the pain that followed it. His face was grabbed again as his head was slammed against the wall; forcing Robin's head to tilt upward. Robin opened his eyes to see his tormenting assailant.

"You make it sound so honorable, Robin. Touching, really," said Slade; sarcasm dripping from his voice. "But tell me the truth: tell me what you _really_ think. I have time; I really do. But you won't find me so pleasant."

Robin squeezed his eyes shut.

No.

He did not want to admit anything to this man. Nothing could make him spill the contents of his feelings to this unfeeling demon. There was no way. There was absolutely no way he was going to tell Slade what he really felt about being a vigilante.

"Tick tock, Robin. I'm losing my patience."

Robin's heart fluttered in his chest as it began to palpitate rapidly. His body was beginning to associate this man with pain. If he didn't say what the man wanted to hear, it would hurt. It didn't like that. Robin's breathing intensified.

Slade raised a fist in warning.

Robin broke down.

"All right!" cried Robin, wrenching away from Slade's grasp to glare up at the man. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; ignoring the trail of blood that stained his skin. "You're right, okay? _Happy?_ _Yes_, it _is_ a burden!"

The troubles of his heart fell from his lips before he could hold them back. Words flowed continuously, speedily leaving his mouth as he barely paused for breath. He just couldn't stop himself as the words spilled from his lips; their departure lifting the weight from his chest.

"There're times I hate it and then times I love it. I'm sick and tired of my friends getting mad at me for making stupid mistakes. I know I make mistakes; it's not like I mean to make them. Red X was the biggest mistake of my life – I admit it. But I'm only fourteen! I'm bound to screw up here and there. Everybody does. I try, I really do. But it is a terrible, heavy burden, all right? But that's okay, because I _chose_ to bear it. I _chose_ to become a hero to help others; to protect them. I don't want _any_ other child to experience what I—"

Robin stopped suddenly, his eyes widening in shock at what he was about to let escape. He clamped his mouth shut and jerked his head down away from Slade's prying eye.

He had been about to mention his parents' deaths.

It was true: he had been thrilled to fight by Batman's side for the sole reason to protect other children from having to be separated from their parents through death. No child should be orphaned. Robin never wanted any child to experience the pain of despair and loneliness – that same pain he had felt every day since his own parents' deaths.

He just couldn't bear the thought of another suffering the same.

"Don't want any other child to experience… _what_, Robin?" asked Slade. Robin tightened his mouth shut even more, shaking his head once. "Answer me, Robin."

"No," snapped Robin; whipping his head back to glare up at Slade as he folded his arms obstinately. "No. It's none of your beeswax."

Robin was punched in the stomach before being slammed into the wall again by the shoulder. Slade bent down to stare at Robin face to face.

"You're the one who emptied your soul out. I'm just encouraging you to finish. Such a pity, though… that you're so stubborn. This will be a long day, don't you think?"

"Shove off, Slade," snarled Robin, dropping his weight suddenly and sweeping his foot to bring Slade off his feet. It caused the man to jumped back to avoid the attack. Robin rolled to the side, away from the wall, and stood up; readying himself into a fighting stance.

"It's too bad the serum will only last another hour," said Slade, flexing his fists. "After that, your injuries won't heal so fast."

Slade barreled forward in an aggressive attack and Robin could do nothing but try to defend himself against his foe.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Ten: Recurrent – A week passes and Robin is still dealing with his capture.

**Author's Notes:** Mmmm… I really like this chapter. ^^ Timeline speed up in the next chapter! As time passes, now the real drama begins. XD

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	10. Recurrent

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and comments. Even the little analyzing comments always spark an idea in my mind. Thanks a ton! ^^

And speaking of which, **Aguna **mentioned about Robin's parents' death day – which just so happens to be _on_ his birthday. This got me thinking that I needed to do something; however, I did _not_ like Robin turning 16 during the story. Just didn't fit in my brain. Made me feel like he got old on me. XD And it killed my thoughts _**if**_ (and I mean IF, this thing is huge enough) I wanted to a sequel, that he was getting too old.

Therefore! I am deaging him to 14. Well, honestly, he's only being deaged by 6 months. All previous chapters have been updated with this, but like **Sadie Aurora Night** pointed out, I might miss something. Timeline is age 7, parents' deaths; around age 12, leaves Batman; around age 13, Teen Titan form; age 14 and a half, kidnapping by Slade.

This change shouldn't affect anything too much. Also, I'll have him be 5 feet even. A thank you to **ronnienotyourbizz** for pointing out the obvious that I missed: this _is_ fanfiction and I can make him two feet tall if I wanted. LOL. I like it when Slade towers over him.

You'll also notice that I've added the date and time for each chapter as well, so you can have a basic idea of how much time passes during the story. ^^ Previous chapters have this as well.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Recurrent**

**September 12th, 2008. Friday, 11:57 pm.**

Robin groaned as he rolled over in his soft bed; trying to find a comfortable position, but failing terribly. His entire body ached with raging bruises and the ice packs had long melted; losing their effectiveness. His body was throbbing. His head was pounding. Even with the covers kicked off, he was hot and sweaty; his body protesting against its harsh reality.

It seriously _had_ been a long, _long_ day – and it was only the first.

Of many.

Robin was too aware of his situation. Day one, and he already knew and understood that there was no escaping the man that held him captive. He was completely under the man's control. That helpless feeling was not sitting well with Robin. He hated it. And the thing he hated the most was that it frightened him as well. He was afraid of being so powerless. He hated it so much. He _hated_ every freaking second of it!

Being so powerless was such a terrifying thing.

Slade had sparred with Robin until past one o'clock pm – or really, Robin got tossed around a lot like a rag doll. For the first hour, true to his word, Robin felt the effects of a massive punch, then heal, rinse and repeat cycle. Slade didn't hold back during that first hour and Robin did his best to defend against him. After that, Robin had been a little more receptive to what Slade had to say.

He had to be, though.

Slade had been right: pain was the master over the will. Robin was proud of himself usually. He had a pretty high pain tolerance. He could withstand a lot of blows in a fight. However, after one mere hour, Robin had been done with it. It had been so bad, he never even wanted anyone to touch him ever again. He just wanted to crawl away and hide from the world; licking his wounds in peace.

But there was no place to hide here.

After that torturous hour, Slade commenced with training. He started up a robot and instructed Robin to spar with it. The robot had fought on an easy setting, Robin had been told, and yet he still couldn't keep up with it. In the words of Beast Boy, he had totally gotten his butt kicked – and by a hunk of metal, too.

By the time Wintergreen came down the stairs to call them for lunch, Robin was thoroughly exhausted. Worn and torn from the inside out. Wintergreen scolded in that grandfatherly tone of his about how they can't miss lunch. Robin had wordlessly followed the two men as Wintergreen griped about how thin he was again.

He had been too tired to care.

He had been in too much pain to care.

He still was.

The rest of the day had been a blur. Slade had gone over a training schedule with him – studying in the mornings, physical training in the afternoons, sparring in the evenings. Robin had noticed that it was pretty rigid; however, there was an hour or two of free time every day. When Robin questioned this, Slade had told him he could do whatever he wanted during them.

That's what confused Robin.

Throughout the day, Robin caught many moments of softness and gentleness from the man. But they were always instantly overshadowed by a cold or harsh reply, or a slap across the face. In just a single day living with the man, Robin was discovering things he had never thought he would even imagine; so many intricate things that one could never discover in the heat of battle.

'_Who is Slade?'_

Robin was slowly learning who the masked man was. Although, it wasn't pleasant situation, it was almost the best for learning about this strange masked man. Once Robin reeled in his tongue, Slade was… decent, to say the least. But the man wasn't consistent and already Robin was beginning to be wary of the man's flippant moods. What Robin thought wasn't an insult, Slade did; and Robin's cheek paid for it. What Robin had meant as an insult sometimes went underneath the radar – but Robin didn't really believe that too much. Slade was impossibly intelligent. The man knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

And that was far more frightening.

ooOOOOOoo

**September 18th, 2008. Thursday, 9:21 pm.**

Robin slammed against the floor; stars bursting in his eyes. He struggled against the hold on his arm that had it twisted behind his back. After a moment, his arm was released. Robin curled his hurting arm beneath his stomach, allowing himself to rest his sweaty face against the cold, hard concrete floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" demanded Slade, his voice filled with tired, yet angry exasperation. "Control your emotions!"

"I'm trying!" cried Robin in protest; pushing himself up on his knees, before standing up all the way to face Slade. He wiped a hand over his sweating brow.

He was tired – _tired_ of it all.

Slade had to have been a drill sergeant in a previous lifetime – Robin was sure of it – or obviously in _this_ lifetime, since the man's training schedule was absolute _agony_; not to mention Wintergreen had said that they were in the army together. Robin was going crazy underneath the rigid schedule. And he thought Bruce had been bad – this was _nuts!_

But, while Slade was strict with his training, it was not without praise. Robin did receive compliments and praise often when he did things right – Robin could feel the man's pleasure emanate from him when he did.

Unlike Bruce, who drilled endlessly with him without any comments on his progress besides critique. Robin had learned to understand when Bruce was satisfied with him or displeased by watching his eyes. They would seem to glitter when he did things right. When he didn't; well… That was a bit more frightening.

Slade's displeasure was simply a backhand across the cheek or a fiercer spar.

A week had passed and Robin was still getting used to the situation. Slade kept him on a strict schedule of physical training, sparring, and studying whatever the man choose that day in engineering. While he was scheduled for 'free time', Robin almost always spent most of it collapsed in bed, exhausted from the rigid physical regime Slade had him on.

Slade also had Robin start with the basics in engineering. He was also learning multiple things in computer programming. Robin held his tongue back over the fact of studying how to hack into different types of computers and mainframes. He was saving his major fight over gun education, which he was sure to come sometime. That was one fight he would not lose – he _couldn't_ lose. But he knew there would be a fight over it.

The man, after all, was a mercenary.

And that was the major thing Robin had learned over the past week. Slade wasn't just any normal psychopathic criminal in Jump City. He was also a mercenary, an assassin who was contracted to kill. And his name to the criminal world?

Deathstroke the Terminator.

Of all the people that Robin had to have as his arch enemy, it had to be _him_. Robin had _no_ idea that Slade had been Deathstroke. If he had known, Robin wouldn't have touched the man with a ten foot pole. He would've swallowed his pride and appealed to Batman or even to the Justice League.

Deathstroke was _that_ dangerous. The Teen Titans were complete bugs to the man – Deathstroke's power was that well known. How arrogant Robin had been to even think that he had a chance against the man with his friends as backup – they had to have been toys, _playthings_ to this man.

That knowledge had almost brought feared tears to his dry eyes. He wasn't just going to be forced to be the apprentice of a common criminal – no, he was going to be forced to be the apprentice of _Deathstroke_, the most feared assassin, mercenary in all the world.

That chilled Robin's very heart.

Robin had tried to investigate the entire residence for any exits during one of his hours of free time. But doors were still locked to him and he did search the main room; only to be found out and dragged back by Slade. He had to suffer through quite a few bruises after that – luckily Wintergreen seemed to have an endless supply of ice packs.

One thing Robin noticed was that Slade would often avoid directly punching or kicking him in the face. It wasn't as if Robin never suffered attacks in that area, it was as if Slade preferred to attack other areas; his stomach or upper chest and shoulder area for example. Although, he was often slapped or backhanded; but besides the moments in sparring, it was rare that Robin experienced a bloody nose or major bruises on his face.

Slade was always filled with oddities.

"You're not trying hard enough, Robin," said Slade, sounding irritable. "It makes me wonder if you're being deliberately disobedient."

"I'm not! I swear!"

"Then, what's the problem?"

Robin opened his mouth before clamping it shut. The man was doing it again. He was coercing Robin to spill his weakness out loud – to announce it and acknowledge it. Robin didn't want to say it. He didn't want to tell his enemy his weakness even though it was obvious to anyone and everyone who fought with him. He hated when Slade did this to him – make him talk through the fight.

"Answer me, Robin."

But defiance was a death wish in pain.

"I get…" Robin ducked his head, feeling his face grow warm. He _hated_ the man for doing this to him. "I get hot headed in a fight. I don't… I don't think straight, then."

"Exactly," said Slade. _Of course, he knew. The jerk,_ thought Robin bitterly. "This is why I keep telling you to control your emotions."

Robin folded his arms crossly, sending a glare Slade's way.

"I _am_ trying, you know."

"_Obviously_," drawled Slade. "Since I have _no_ idea what you're feeling right now."

Robin huffed lightly, dropping his arms to his sides while turning his head downward. Sarcasm. Gosh, he hated the man's _sarcasm_. He supposed it could be funny, but he was usually the brunt of it and wasn't ever in the mood for it. It wasn't like he could reciprocate the sarcasm without getting slapped for the retorts.

He wanted to go home. He missed Titans Tower. He missed his friends. He missed gorging on pizza with them – even when Starfire wanted to put weird things on it. He missed Starfire's strange alien foods. He missed crushing Beast Boy in videos games. He missed sparring with Cyborg. He missed talking about books with Raven.

Oh, gosh; he missed them _so_ bad.

Robin bit the interior of his lower lip, trying to stop them from trembling. One week. That was how long it had been. One week and he was already set to leave this man – leave him and never look back. Who cares who the heck he was; Robin wanted nothing to do with him.

Was his life going to be like this for a long time?

He hated it here. Would he ever get used to it? What he hated the most about it all was the fact that he was thinking as if he would stay. His level of hope was diminishing already. But he had lost control over his own life; his own choices. He wasn't in control any more – that much Slade made him realize.

He had to rely on the man for everything now. Slade was controlling everything, from the small things to the large things. He wasn't allowed outside – ever. He missed the sunlight and fresh air. The nice feeling of Slade preparing for him beforehand faded quickly once Robin came to realize that he didn't have a choice in the little things of his life.

He was trapped.

There were even times when Slade sent him back to his room to change his clothes. The snarky thought, _'Well, next time don't buy it for me if you don't want me to wear it.'_ crossed his mind a thousand times, _at least_, during the past week.

"Robin. _Robin_, you aren't paying attention any more," said Slade, exasperated.

Robin blinked, looking back up at the man. Slade had walked up to him and was standing in front with his arms folded; staring down at him through his mask with a tired eye.

"Oh. My mind… wandered."

"_Apparently_," drawled Slade sarcastically. He shook his head once before letting out one long annoyed sigh. "All right, take a rest. You clearly aren't trying this evening."

"I am, too!" cried Robin, absolutely irritated at being talked down to. "I'm doing the best I can!"

"Watch your tone," warned Slade.

"_No!_" snapped Robin. "I'm sick and tired of you complaining that I'm not trying. I don't want to be here. I hate this place. I hate _you_. I hate being forced to do things. I'm sick of this!"

Slade's eye turned icily frightening. It narrowed as it stared deeply at him. Robin couldn't suppress the shiver that went down his back. That hadn't been so smart. His brain still didn't care to remember that if he made this man angry, he paid for it – painfully. He took a step backwards and put up his hands nervously.

"Wa—wait…" started Robin as Slade approached with that terrible, furious look in his eye. Slade reached out and grabbed him by the underarm, turning and slamming him into the nearest wall. A hard fist struck his stomach; the wind escaped his mouth as Robin coughed viciously. Slade grabbed him by the head and shoved it back against the wall; stars popping in his eyes, clouding his vision of the masked man.

"You need to learn to think before you speak," said Slade, leaning close to Robin's face; his tone stern. "You have a quick tongue and a short temper."

"You always bring out the best in me," drawled Robin, regretting the retort right as the knee thumped into his chest. Robin dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping in pain. Slade let out a growling sigh as he stood over him.

"We can have a pleasant night or an unpleasant night, Robin. Why must you make things so difficult on yourself?"

Robin scoffed.

"And why can't you just let me go?" retorted Robin. "Then, all this pleasantness and unpleasantness crap can just end."

"Cute, Robin. Really, you are," said Slade, his tone dripping with derision. Robin growled as he dragged himself up to his feet, supporting his weight with a hand on the wall. He cradled his raging stomach with his other arm. He shot Slade his strongest glare yet.

"Go to bed, Robin," said Slade, turning his back on him. "Your snippy attitude will only get you into worse trouble since I won't tolerate it."

Robin opened his mouth for another snarky retort, but closed it before he allowed the damaging words to fly; the realization of what Slade was doing hitting him strongly. Slade was letting him go; letting him go to bed early. He never did that.

Well, that was weird.

Robin quickly obeyed, not wanting to give the man any reason to change his mind. He limped slightly as he walked up the stairs to the main floor. He gave Wintergreen a wordless wave goodnight, before continuing his slow walk to his room; shutting the door behind himself with a long, tired sigh.

Safety.

It was strange that this room gave him that feeling. Slade didn't come in here often and whenever Robin was sent here, it offered a sense of safety and peace. While, of course, the man could still reach him here, it was as if the room was untainted. He was actually really thankful that Slade had sent him to bed early. He was exhausted, sore, and grumpy.

Although, Robin was sure that sleep wouldn't help his bad attitude. A hug from Starfire would cure it, though – right away. Heck, just a hug, _period_. Although, Starfire's hugs were a bit bone crushing – literally. He missed his friends and would love any interaction with any of them. One week with two adult men, after living with four overactive teens, was boring and lonely.

Wintergreen was nice and all, but he wasn't perfectly warm. But Robin wasn't guarded around him. He figured the man wouldn't hit him ever – he just didn't seem like the type. But Robin missed the warmth of his friends. Moments of them all squished together on the couch for a late night movie, playing football and wrestling for the ball in a scuffle, or just doing silly messing around – all these Robin missed dearly. He missed the human interaction; the kind, soft, playful, casual human touch.

He sure as heck wasn't getting that, pleasantly, from Slade – _not_ that he _wanted_ it from the man _anyways_.

Robin shed his sweaty clothes; trying to decide if he should step into the shower before bed. Coming to the decision that he was just too tired tonight, he slipped on a new pair of pajamas and eased into bed with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and fell asleep within moments.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Eleven: A Senior Moment – Robin, to his dismay, finds out what it means for an old man to have a senior moment.

**Author's Notes:** Mmmm… I cannot wait for the next chapter. *grins mischievously*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	11. A Senior Moment

**Author's Note:** LOL, we now have a one 'mellow down' the torture count. LOLOL. So funny. Hm… I think it'll mellow out after chapter eighteen. ^^;

So, the senior moment. No, it's not nagging. No, it's not memory lose… I wonder what it'll be… *smirks* This has _got_ to be my _favorite_ Wintergreen moment up to this point.

*Robin glares at Anthy and says bitterly,* "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

*Anthy shrugs with a mischievous smile* "Maaaaybeee… Yeah, yeah I am."

*Robin glares at everyone* "I think the lot of you all – _Anthy, you too –_ need to go to Torturers Anonymous."

"Well, _this_ isn't torture, per se…"

"_Says you!_"

"Hehehe… You're blushin`…"

"_Shudup!_"

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**A Senior Moment**

**September 19th, 2008. Friday, 6:30 am.**

Robin was in a bad mood – a _terrible_ mood. He smashed the snooze button on his alarm clock irritably; shutting off the annoying, blaring noise that was drilling into his ears. After a quiet moment, he groaned as he rolled out of bed; his aching body protesting heavily. It was one of those mornings where he really, _really_ hated training. He never wanted to spar _ever_ again – his body was far too sore. He grumbled and groaned like an aged old man as he stumbled into the bathroom; slamming the door behind him.

Slade was wrong: sleep did _nothing_ to help his bad attitude.

Shedding his clothing – leaving his mask on, of course – he stepped into the shower and ran the water as hot as he could stand it. He moaned pleasantly as the water eased some of his aches and pains. He rested his forehead against the cool tiled wall, letting the hot water rain down on his back.

His body had plenty of bruises. A lot caused in normal training while others caused by blows that were provoked by what Slade liked to call 'bad behavior'. Like last night, for instance. Slade was certainly not gentle with him. The man definitely was an expert trainer, though – minus the beatings – but it was nonetheless torturous. Robin hadn't ever pushed himself like this in his entire life. It was like he was training to be a professional athlete. He knew the effects would be beneficial – especially if he ever managed to get out of this terror of a place – but he was dying; completely _dying_.

It was interesting how quickly he settled into the routine. The fear of getting beaten up was a good motivator, of course. But he was beginning to get irritated. He was tired. All that crap talk about being freed from a burden – being a vigilante leader – was just that: _talk_. He didn't feel free. He didn't feel any less burdened by life.

Far from it – it was worse.

He finished his shower, drying himself with a fresh towel. Thankfully, the shower helped his achy muscles a bit and cleared his mind. He wrapped the towel around his waist and accomplished his morning routine of brushing his teeth and hair. And the final effect: a healthy glop of styling gel to spike back his black hair.

With a fleeting cocky lift of his eyebrows, he left the bathroom and pulled out a set of sweats from his dresser – the usual for another day of vigorous training.

Dressed, Robin left his room and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. He found Wintergreen at his usual spot in front of the stove preparing breakfast. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of bacon. Robin took a deep breath, basking in the mouthwatering smell as he came to stand next to Wintergreen.

"Morning," said Robin, peeking into the frying pan. Wintergreen glanced at him, before looking back to his work.

"Good morning, child. How did you sleep?"

Robin grumbled lightly and shrugged. "Best as I could, I guess."

"Still having sore muscles?" asked Wintergreen, sounding concerned.

"Course," griped Robin. "The masked slave driver won't give me a moment's rest."

"You know Slade is only doing what he thinks is best for you," chided Wintergreen kindly.

"_Oh, yeah_," drawled Robin. "Every bruise on my body is 'best' for me."

"You know what I mean," said Wintergreen with a shake of his head. "You have to admit that you are a bit rebellious and defiant. And quite disrespectful as well, I might add."

"Oh, _yes!_" cried Robin dramatically. "Let me be perfectly pleasant to my captor." Robin rolled his eyes and shot the old man a dry look. "_Not_."

Wintergreen chuckled, turning the bacon over in the pan. He shook the contents a few times; the grease crackling loudly.

"You're a bit grumpy this morning, aren't you?"

"_How_ could you tell?" drawled Robin again. Wintergreen sighed and turned off the fire to the stove; turning to face Robin.

"You could be a little more agreeable, you know."

"Why should I?" demanded Robin, the irritation rising in his chest. "Eight days I've been here now. I want to go home. I miss my friends – I bet they're worried sick. I don't want to be Slade's apprentice. Let me go already."

"I'm afraid not. I don't have that authority."

Robin turned his head to the side angrily, his chest heaving once in frustration. He knew the old man meant well, but he was so infuriating sometimes. Keeping someone against their will was against the law, not to mention downright _annoying_.

"Look, you can't just keep me here."

"I think the past eight days attest otherwise," replied Wintergreen in a dry tone.

Robin growled.

"Look, old man; you seriously can't expect me to be happy over this!" cried Robin.

"Dear child," started Wintergreen, an unknown, unusual glint entering his eyes. "Call me 'old man' again and I'll have a senior moment all over your backside."

"So, you can call me 'child', but I can't call you 'old man'?" retorted Robin with a lift of his eyebrow.

"You _are_ a child."

"Well," started Robin, folding his arms obstinately, "_you_ _are_ an old man."

Wintergreen only gave Robin an old, knowing smile, his hazel green eyes flashing, before reaching out towards his face. Robin wasn't wary of the old man, but he should've been.

Wintergreen got a good hold on Robin's left earlobe, pinching it tightly. Robin couldn't hold back the slight wince from the pinch. His eyes widened in surprise as he was forced to turn to the side; the old man pulling him by his ear. He jumped as a very hard hand cracked over his backside, a biting sharp sting following afterward.

Wintergreen let his ear go and Robin whirled back to stare at the old man, shock evident throughout his face as he did so.

"Wha—what—you—" stammered Robin.

"I did warn you. Oh, _please_, child; Slade isn't the only one around here who can keep you line," said Wintergreen, looking extremely amused by his reaction. Robin's face flushed deeply. "I just prefer to use old fashioned means to do so. Now _enough_ with this petulance; sit down and _behave_ yourself already."

Robin shut his gapping mouth and obeyed the man without question; dropping into a chair. The sting was slowly fading from his seat, but the mortification wasn't leaving anytime soon. He sat, wide eyed; staring at the tablecloth in total shock.

The old man had smacked him like a five year old!

The humiliation was complete – Robin was absolutely and totally mortified. He couldn't believe that the man had resorted to smacking him like that. There was no recovering from this. Nope. Not at all. A slap across the face would've been way better. At least that was border lining on abuse. But this…

Oh, _gosh_…

Robin squirmed in his chair, feeling his face grow unbelievably warm. The warmth spread upward to his ears. He ducked his head slightly; the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him. The humiliation was flooding through him, washing over him like a terrible tsunami. It threatened to drown him and for a brief moment the thought of getting his arm broken would've been preferred to the glowing humiliation he was feeling at that very moment.

Wintergreen glanced at Robin every now and then; his face showing his complete amusement. Robin never spoke or looked up as the old man made breakfast. He just couldn't handle hearing what the old man might say. Silence was the best path to pursue at that moment.

Robin wasn't sure if his heart could handle any more humiliation.

He couldn't hold still, though. He felt far too uncomfortable. It wasn't that the smack had any major lasting pain, he just couldn't sit still; the warmth in his face was enough to make him wiggle constantly. He just wanted to bury his face into a pillow and ignore humans altogether.

What was more surprising was that he felt ashamed that he had driven the old man to such a reprimand. He _had_ back talked Wintergreen and the old man _had_ warned him, too. Unlike his dealings with Slade, he felt he deserved this one. Robin always felt that Slade dealt with him unjustly, not to mention the man bounced back and forth faster than a pinball machine.

Gosh, he hated being treated like a child – even though he still was one. Now _that_ was a bitter pill to swallow.

Robin heard the footsteps before Slade walked into the kitchen. He didn't bother to look up in fear that his face was still lit up red like a Christmas tree.

"Good morning, Robin," said Slade, taking a seat next to him.

"Morning… sir," mumbled Robin, his head still lowered. He wasn't sure why he added the honorific 'sir', but somehow it seemed the best thing to do at the moment. He was sure it would've pleased Wintergreen and right now that seemed like the best thing to do to avoid any more 'senior moments'.

Slade had been taking a newspaper from the middle of the table when Robin spoke. He stopped momentarily, seeming to be surprised by Robin's politeness. Robin wiggled in his chair again, staring at his empty plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Well, it's seems that your attitude has improved since last night," said Slade in an approving tone. Robin nodded; trying very hard to stop the warmth in his face, but that just wasn't happening.

"Yes… sir," murmured Robin, wiggling in his chair again.

Slade stared at Robin for a moment longer before tearing his glance away to look at Wintergreen. He nodded his head once towards Robin.

"What's up with him? Why's he so fidgety?" asked Slade, sounding perplexed.

Oh gosh.

Oh crap, no.

Wintergreen was going to tell Slade what had happened. Robin ducked his head even lower – if that was possible. His face burned even hotter – if _that_ was even possible. He was never going to live it down. The last thing he needed was for Slade to sneer at him and poke fun at him over this. Robin was going to die – death by burning humiliation.

Now that was an obituary to read.

Wintergreen glanced over at Robin; his lips pursed slightly as the edges of his mouth tried extremely hard not to break out into a broad smile. He was failing at it.

"Oh… Nothing at all," said Wintergreen, his voice slightly sing-song like. He began to dish out breakfast onto the plates. "Isn't that right, Robin?"

Robin nodded vigorously, still not looking up.

"See? A wonderful start to a new day," said Wintergreen cheerfully, the smile spreading throughout his features.

Robin dug into his breakfast without another word; wishing to become invisible once again – anything to hide his blushing face. Slade merely shrugged off the oddity and began to eat his own breakfast through an open compartment in his mask. Robin didn't even sneak glances up at the man like he usually did when the man ate. The only facial feature he had been able to figure out during meals was the white goatee that surrounded his mouth.

It was odd. The hair was completely pure white – not a grey hair in the midst of them. Yet Wintergreen's white hair was littered with them. There was no way Slade was older than Wintergreen. Slade's voice didn't have that aged sound that Wintergreen's did, not to mention the fact that Slade was in perfect shape.

Very strange indeed.

Robin knew that Slade would never remove his mask – not for a very long time, at least. It was tempting to try to rip that mask right off the man's face, but Robin would never cross that line. He didn't want the man to do the same to him. Slade could've removed Robin's mask off at any moment – Robin knew and understood that all too well. If the man wanted it off, it would've been _off_. There was just no way to defy an order from Slade no matter hard he tried. When Slade wanted something done, he had to do it – _or else_.

Which made Robin terribly curious and nervous.

Why didn't Slade demand that Robin take off his mask? It would be just like the man to degrade him in such a way – taking away his identity as Robin and forcing the one he wanted on him as his 'apprentice'. Was it because he already knew Robin's true identity? He couldn't suppress the shiver that went down his back at the thought.

If he didn't know, then why not just rip it away?

But no matter how often Robin tried to figure out Slade, he just couldn't. The man was too much of an enigma. There was just no understanding his thinking or his logic. He knew the man was highly intelligent – all the studying Robin was being forced through proved that much. Slade knew a lot about electronics and computers, far more than Robin knew was possible.

No wonder the man sent out so many robots to do his dirty work – he could easily build them all. Why go out and do it on his own when his evil little robot army could do it just as well?

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twelve: The Exposing Catalyst – Robin learns that continual disobedience will cost him at a terrible price.

**Author's Notes:** *Robin folds his arms and looks to the side with a deep flush on his face* "Anthy isn't available at this time. She's too busy laughing her head off like a nut. —_Anthy, stop laughing!_"

Next week we've got some action and angst with a heaping helping of drama with a side of Titans.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	12. The Exposing Catalyst

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the awesome support and reviews! ^^ I'm glad so many people are enjoying this.

I actually starting drawing Robin for the first time – not finished yet – and I was working on his hair. Man, my semi-realistic style and Robin's hair are just ARG. XD It's like realistic anime spiky hair. When I finish it, I'll update the cover with it. ^^ But that's probably not until next week. Finishing this huge novel thingy is first.

So, four counts torture, one count mellow down, and one count fluff. You should know I generally don't go with the crowd. And like I've said before, this will be unconventional in its ending. Sooo, does that somewhat answer your question, **Swallow Tale**? *smiles sweetly*

After all, this will have 51 chapters plus one Epilogue. Anything is bound to happen. ^-^

We haven't even hit the turning point that summary mentions…

;)

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Exposing Catalyst**

**September 25th, 2008. Thursday, 8:32 pm.**

"Again, Robin," commanded Slade's low, smooth voice. Robin groaned elaborately, dropping his head onto the desk with a _thump_ in front of the keyboard.

Not _again_ – anything else but _again_. Robin was so tired of running through this same hacking exercise, he was going _crazy_. It was endless – completely _endless_.

But above all, he was _bored_. The endless training and studying was getting so tiring and boring. Some of the engineering, he had to admit, was interesting at times. But dealing with these never-ending stream of numbers hours upon hours today was mind numbingly boring. Why couldn't Slade just stick to his rigid schedule today?

"Slade," muttered Robin. "Can't we do something else? _Anything_ else?"

"No. Again, Robin," instructed Slade. Robin left out another low moan before lifting his head up.

"How many more times do I have to do this today?"

"Until I say."

"When's that?"

"You're being impudent," warned Slade.

"Oh, come on, Slade!" growled Robin, whirling around in the computer chair to face Slade. The grinding, clinking noise from the gears above rang in his ears. "I'm seriously going out of my mind with boredom here. We've been doing this _all_ day."

"It is one of the many things I will teach you," said Slade, putting his hands behind his back as he took a step closer to Robin. "In the which, you will continue learning and practicing. This is something you need to grind to learn. Again, Robin. Don't push me."

Robin scowled and whirled back around in the chair; glaring at the computer screen for all its worth. He hated the man. He could be so unbending at times. Robin was so sick of this exercise – sick of it, _sick of it!_

Yet another week had passed, making it a total of two weeks; fourteen days that Robin had been held captive by Slade. He was slowly getting used to the routine that Slade put him under and the major soreness from the intense training was beginning to ease up. It was surprising and somewhat unnerving when Slade strayed from the routine. It unsettled Robin; almost to the point of making him go crazy – like today.

The routine kept him sane.

Still, Robin had difficulty holding his tongue with Slade. But the man was so freaking irritating! Not to mention Robin missed his friends and while he wasn't ever alone – almost always with Slade – he was getting lonely for them.

Would he ever see them again?

Robin typed on the keyboard; his fingers flying quickly over the keys with precision. His fingers knew the keys perfectly by now. He went over the codes countlessly.

But he had done the exercise so many times that day, not even exaggerating the number made him feel better. His fingers tapped the keys with power. He wished he could crush them. But Slade probably wouldn't appreciate it if he broke his equipment.

Then, a small smile slipped through his lips.

Slade was teaching him hacking – and he was doing pretty good, if he said so himself. If he could just…

His fingers dashed over the keys frantically as he played out his plan. It was simple – truly simple. It would only take a moment; and in that moment, there was nothing Slade could do to stop him. His heart raced at the sheer recklessness at the stunt. But he couldn't hold back the excitement in his chest.

Finally, something out of Slade's control and into his own.

With the final code down, he smashed the enter key down. A red light flashed on the screen. Multiple windows popped up; codes spilling down in endless amounts. Robin smirked at his work. Well, his training with the psychopath was paying off already.

Slade was beside him in seconds. He growled and ripped Robin out of the seat, before angrily sitting down in his place. Robin stood as he watched Slade's fingers fly across the keyboard.

Robin couldn't hold back the wide smirk that spread through his face.

But it slid away very quickly as Slade turned to face him, his grey blue eye narrowed in anger beneath that inhuman mask.

"What did you do?"

Robin's throat went dry. What had he done? What, Slade couldn't tell? Heh, if the man didn't know then he wasn't about to spill the beans.

"Answer me."

"How come you don't know?" asked Robin, feeling a little too brave.

"Answer me. What mischief did you do?" demanded Slade.

"Should've thought that one out before you taught me how to make 'mischief' with your computer," smirked Robin with a confident fold of his arms.

Slade slowly stood up. Robin found himself taking a few steps back involuntarily. The man's presence was dominating. Robin fell back a few steps, tripping over the steps that led up to the computer. He landed hard on his seat, wincing in pain for a minute. Slade slowly walked down the three steps.

Robin could just feel the man's anger radiate from his body. He quickly scrambled to his feet and readied himself for whatever was to come to him.

"You will answer the question, boy," said Slade, his tone icy. "Or else you will live to regret it."

"No," said Robin defiantly. He clenched his fists for a brief moment. Then, Robin bolted forward fiercely; arm pulled back and ready to smash his fist into Slade's masked face. Slade smoothly dodged the attack that shot forward; barely moving to the side. As Robin passed him, Slade grabbed Robin's wrist and twisted it behind him. Pain shot up his arm all the way to his shoulder. He was locked in a terrible position; unable to move from the locked hold from behind.

"Why must you always make things so difficult for yourself?" snarled Slade, tightening his grip on Robin's twisted arm. Further pain screamed through his arm. Robin held very still, praying that Slade wouldn't break his arm. The grip on his arm felt as if the man could snap it like a twig – it would be all too easy for him to do that. Robin's chest heaved as he breathed heavily in pain.

Slade released him, tossing him forward easily. Robin landed on all fours. He barely had time to think as a kick rushed toward him. He rolled onto his side, barely missing the metal tipped boot by a mere centimeter. His heart rate was starting to go up in fear.

Robin flipped back suddenly as another attack came at him in the form of Slade's fist. A flurry of attacks came at Robin and it took all his energy and concentration to try to dodge them.

He wasn't able to dodge one and a knee smashed into his side; sending him flying to the side. He rolled onto the floor with a cry and then jumped to his feet, blinking wildly at the pain that tore at his side. He had to stay alert. Slade was going to attack again – there was no doubt.

"Attack back, Robin. Quit dancing around," said Slade in a low, commanding voice with a hint of mocking.

"Shut up!" snapped Robin, hating that tone in the man's voice.

"You wanted to do something different, didn't you?" questioned Slade with a tilt of his head. "Well, that's just what we're doing now. You brought this onto yourself. You just _had_ to do something mischievous, didn't you?"

"Anyone would go crazy after a day like today," protested Robin. "C'mon, Slade. If you're so smart, why can't you get that?"

"Watch it, boy. You're in enough trouble as it is," said Slade in an menacing tone.

"Shove off, Slade," snarled Robin. "Quit acting like I'm a little kid."

Slade growled loudly. An icy chill went down Robin's spine at the near feral sound.

"If you insist on acting like one," started Slade; his tone low and dark, "I shall be more than happy to oblige you."

Slade bolted forward at inhuman speed. There was no avoiding it. Robin was slammed against the wall, a cough mixed with a cry of pain burst from his mouth. Stars popped in his sight. Slade locked an arm against Robin's chest, pushing him against the wall with persistent force.

"Now, let's try this one more time. What did you do, Robin?" asked Slade softly, yet in a terribly dark tone. He leaned down to face him. Robin rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to clear his mind from the pain he was feeling.

"If you're the expert, why don't you tell me?"

That unbending grey blue eye narrowed.

"I suggest you tell me immediately or else this will turn out even more painful for you."

Robin clamped his mouth shut; his brain racking for the most plausible lie.

"Hurry it up, Robin."

"I—I sent an SOS to Batman!" cried Robin finally.

There was a long pause.

"You did _what?_"

"I…" Robin hesitated. He then gained his momentum and the false words spilled from his lips. "I–I sent an SOS to Batman. He'll know where I am, and–and he'll come and rescue me from you!"

There was another long pause. Then, there was a short chuckle which extended into a deep laugh. Slade released his hold on him; leaning back with a hand on the forehead of his mask. Chills went down Robin's back as he listened to the disturbing laughter.

"What a little liar you are," commented Slade after a moment with amusement still in his voice. He shook his head. "I'm surprised that you would resort to lying to me." Slade leaned back down; the mouth of his mask so near to Robin's ear that he could actually feel the man's warm breath through the thin breathing slits of his mask. "But I suggest you don't do that. You're bad at it."

"But—I–I did," stammered Robin; his nervousness clutching his heart.

"Oh, please," scoffed Slade with a small, barking chuckle. "You know very well you didn't, Robin. I know exactly what you did. Very clever, too. Trying to delete some precious files of mine. You should know I have huge backup server system. Even if you tried to delete something, there are five other sets to delete."

Robin turned his head away, his chest lifting once in a deep sigh of frustration. The man had known all along, yet had acted as if he didn't. Why did Slade always have to play these kinds of mind games with him? Did Slade merely want control over him – was that it? Or was Slade trying to prove that he had been right all along with his training measures?

"I still managed to delete one set," mumbled Robin, desperately needing to win against this man at something. Even if it was a tiny victory – it was a victory, nonetheless.

Slade smashed his fist into the wall right next to his face. Robin jumped as he felt flecks of metal strike his cheek from the crushed impact. Slade let out a low growl.

"_Yes_," hissed Slade icily. "Looks like the grinding paid off, wouldn't you say? You _did_ manage to break through my _own_ security measures. Well done. But it's your audacity to go against me that angers me. It seems that my fists are just not sending any proper messages into that _stubborn_ head of yours."

Robin froze, suddenly terrified by the tone in man's voice.

This couldn't be good.

"I wonder, Robin… how loudly you'll scream if I broke your arm," said Slade, gently grabbing a hold of Robin's arm in a tight, iron grip.

Robin's heart stopped; trapped in the man's terrifying grasp. His mouth went dry instantly.

"Yo—you wouldn't…"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" said Slade, amused. "You seem to love to test me, Robin. Truly, it's really adorable. But I grow tired of it. Maybe this will remind you mind your tongue for awhile."

"Wai—wait, Slade!" cried Robin frantically. "Please don't!"

"And just why not?"

"Be–because, then I'll be useless for weeks," tried Robin; desperate.

"Is that all? I can easily heal you when I wish to." The grip on Robin's arm tightened. His heart panicked. The man was really going to do it – he was really going to break his arm.

"Please, Slade! _Don't!_" Robin found himself pleading; hating himself for being so weak before his enemy. It was a horrible feeling – being so helpless and so frail against the all powerful Slade.

"Why not?"

"Just… please, don't," whispered Robin, going limp in the man's grasp; submitting to himself to his fate. "I'll… I'll do better."

"Will you really?"

"Yes… I will."

"You've been terrible," said Slade; his tone going softer, dropping to a dark purr. "Therefore, you deserve some sort of punishment. Do you not agree?"

"Y–yes."

"Will you submit to any punishment that I deem necessary?" asked Slade in terrible whisper.

"Ye–yes," choked Robin. Slade released him. Robin held his arm to his chest; his heart racing madly in fear. His arm had almost been broken – that had been close and all too terrifying.

"You've brought this upon yourself, Robin," said Slade. Robin's mouth went even drier. He was sure the alternate punishment couldn't be worse than a broken arm. But there was no way to tell. Would the man decide to break his leg instead or something?

"I am done with your obstinate disrespectfulness," continued Slade. "It will end, Robin. Therefore, as your punishment, you'll be losing a privilege."

Oh. Was that all – well, that shouldn't be too bad.

"A very _special_ privilege. I've been lenient with this long enough," said Slade; darkness seeming to ooze from the very segments of the man's voice. A terrible feeling of foreboding rose up inside Robin's chest. There was something very unsettling in the man's tone. A voice inside him was whispering that he should've let the man break his arm.

"I think I've been quite patient with you, but time and time again you've proven yourself no longer deserving to keep this privilege."

_Wait… Oh, please… Please tell me he isn't going to say what I think he's going to say. Oh, please, no—_

"Remove your mask, Robin."

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirteen: Richard "Dick" Grayson

**Author's Notes:** Actually, I do agree with you, **Swallow Tale**, about the mask issue. I really do see Slade stopping someone else from unmasking Robin. But I also think Slade is attempting to gain an apprentice and heir. Slade will be tearing down all barriers.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	13. Richard 'Dick' Grayson

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the beautiful reviews and support! ^^ Sorry for the cliffhanger! Luckily, I update often, hm? XD

Ya'll should know I love to foreshadow stuff. Who knows what I've foreshadowed. Some stuff is happening right now as we go; some stuff for later chapters; some for even further chapters. Anything could be a foreshadowed moment. ^_^ Makes you wonder what I've foreshadowed in the earlier chapters… Hehehe…

To every reader, thanks for reading! I appreciate all the reviews from everyone. Always brings a bright smile to my face. Makes my favorite days of the week Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. ^.^

Anyways…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Richard "Dick" Grayson**

**September 25th, 2008. Thursday, 9:00 pm.**

_No…_

_No, no…_

_No!_

"Obey me now. Take off your mask," repeated Slade in his soft, yet dark whisper. Robin's eyes widened beneath the safety of his mask. He squeezed them shut, praying beyond all hope that this was just a terrible dream – a horrific nightmare.

Then, perhaps he could wake up and forget this whole thing had ever happened. All the studying, all the training, all the punches, all the kicks, all the slaps, and now the mask – that's what this had to be; just some sick, horrible, _terrible_ nightmare.

Oh, but it wasn't.

_No, no, no, no, no! This isn't happening. This can't be happening. This isn't happening! Maybe if I ignore him—_

"Now, Robin. Remove your mask," commanded Slade. "Do it now or I'll have to remove it myself. And you _don't_ want _me_ to remove it – I can guarantee you that."

Robin took a small, gasping breath as his chest heaved in terrible, overwhelming hopelessness. His heart palpitated at the mere thought of unveiling his eyes before his enemy. He had to stay Robin – he just _had_ to. If he didn't, he wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to continue to resist the man. Dick wouldn't have the strength to fight against him. Dick would be crushed – utterly and totally crushed under Slade's cruelty.

"Please…" whispered Robin; his voice filled with a plea that was uncharacteristic to his persona. "Please don't make me take it off. I'll do better. I'll—"

"It's too late for that, Robin," said Slade, swiftly overriding him. "You had your chance – two weeks is quite a long time for leniency, you know. But I'm at the end of my patience. Take it off, now. You said you'd accept any punishment I deemed necessary. Well, this is what I deem necessary. Obey me now."

Robin's lips trembled in fear. He bowed his head for a moment, his breathing becoming erratic. This wasn't supposed to happen. This _couldn't_ be happening. Anything but this – he'd do anything to change this.

"_Please_, Slade. I'll do _anything_. But please don't—"

"I thought I gave you an order, Robin," whispered Slade, his eye glinting dangerously through the opening in his mask; his tone ever so ominous. "Orders are meant to be obeyed, _without_ question. This isn't up for debate. You had your chance – you lost it. _Now, remove it!_"

Robin closed his eyes, the burning within them overpowering. However, no tears slipped through. No tears eased through the crevice of his eyelids to slip into the material of his mask. They wouldn't come yet.

_There's no hope. I can't fight this man. I'm completely and utterly weak against him. He holds all power and all control over me. There's no hope. I should've let him break my arm…_

There was no hope.

There was no escape.

The man was all powerful; all knowing. He could do anything to Robin – it just all depended on whether or not Robin would submit to him. Just how far would Robin bend to avoid the pain? Would he snap under the pressure? Once the mask came off, would Dick have the strength to fight?

But even Robin didn't have the strength to fight against this man anymore.

Slowly, Robin lifted his hand to his face and began to peel away the mask. It stretched his skin as if ripping off a band-aid; his skin stinging slightly. Finally, the last bit of mask disconnected from his skin and he dropped his arm to hang limply at his side, the mask clutched in his hand.

Robin was now unmasked.

He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look at the horrible man that had been making his life a complete misery for the past two weeks. He did not want Slade to see Dick's eyes. But he knew… Oh, he knew he'd be forced to open them at any moment – view his whole situation through unfiltered, unmasked eyes.

Through Dick's eyes.

"Open your eyes," whispered Slade, sounding ever so soft. "And look at me."

There was no disobeying this man.

The command was slowly obeyed. Dick's eyes lifted open to stare into the chest of the man. His eyes lifted upward to look into the visible eye of the masked demon. A flicker of an unknown emotion passed through Slade's eye before it disappeared as quickly as it came. Slade's chest heaved once in a deep breath before speaking.

"Like gemstones," murmured Slade in an undertone, as if to himself. There was another long breath before he continued softly, "I know all about you. Don't think your identity has been a secret all this time – I've known for years who you are. I've just let you continue with the charade."

Dick's eyes widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat.

_He knew…? All along?_

"Yes, _Richard_ or as you normally go by: Dick," said Slade silkily, his eye showing that his face was filled with a smirk. "I know _all_ about you. I even know who you were before you were taken in by Batman or better known as Bruce Wayne."

Dick's eyes began burn, yet the tears would still not come. His burning eyes were unprotected from the cool air. He was completely unprotected, unarmed in every aspect before his enemy. Slade knew Batman's identity. He _knew_ – the evil, _evil_ demonic man knew it _all_. There were no more secrets – Dick was stripped bare before his enemy and with no hope of escaping him; no hope in overpowering him.

Completely, totally, utterly, absolutely _powerless_.

"I know how your parents died as well," said Slade so softly that his voice was barely above a whisper. "Tragic, too; how they fell to their deaths."

_Oh my gosh, stop… Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, oh, please stop!_

"Murdered," continued Slade slowly, each word said with soft precision, "by a mafia man that had been trying to extort protection money from – what was his name? Oh, yes – Mr. Haley, who was the owner of the circus your parents worked at. Sabotaged trapeze wires, isn't that right? Terrible tragedy, really."

Somehow, Dick didn't think that Slade had forgotten Mr. Haley's name. If Dick hadn't been in so much turmoil, he might've noticed the reverent way Slade spoke over the deaths of his parents. But he didn't notice – his mind was screaming in total despair.

"_Stop_…" whispered Dick, his voice hoarse. "_Please… Stop…_"

"No. I'm not going to stop, Dick."

"_Please! Stop!_" screamed Dick, clamping his hands over his ears; his body curling slightly as he cowered downward. "_I'm begging you, please stop!_"

The tears still wouldn't come. No matter how horrible he felt, he couldn't even have the cleansing moment of crying. They were still locked away, deep within his heart. There was no escaping this terrible, _awful_ place. He was trapped with a heartless man would make his life miserable forever – Dick was thoroughly sure of that now.

Had he been an awful person to deserve such a lot in life? Did he deserve to face this? Had he offended some higher power that he needed to be punished and tortured like this?

A hand touched Dick's chin, gently lifting his head to look upward. Dick was forced to look into that unbending steel grey blue eye. Would this have been any easier if Slade had taken off his own mask? Did the inhuman mask make it all the worse?

"Uncover your ears, Dick. You _will_ hear what I have to say," said Slade. Dick's lips trembled as his hands fell to his sides slowly. He pursed his lips together, trying to stop the uncontrollable trembling.

"Good boy," said Slade. Then he continued dryly, voice rising slightly in volume, "And then enter Batman; the Dark Knight of Gotham City who took in poor little orphaned Richard. You were his little tag along birdie for five years, weren't you, Dick?"

Dick closed his eyes, nodding slowly. The burning in his eyes was intensifying, yet his eyes were still completely dry. Would they ever cleanse themselves? He didn't care if it was in front of his enemy. He needed them to purge the terrible pain in his heart and chest.

Dick's eyes slipped open once Slade continued.

"But… what could have made the little bird leave his safe nest, hm?" questioned Slade. Dick's eyes began to widen, his heart beginning to quicken in fear.

_Oh, gosh, no. No, no, no, please tell me the man doesn't know about that. Oh, please. I can't handle _that. _Anything but _that_. Please, no!_

"What could've happened, hm? Want to fill me on that information? I'm afraid I'm a bit at a loss with this."

Dick rapidly shook his head. He could never tell anyone. He couldn't speak of it. He couldn't handle _that_ on top of everything else. Was Slade really determined to break him completely? Shatter his fragile being completely to piece him together into the apprentice that Slade so wanted?

If the man wasn't careful, that was exactly what was going to happen.

"Tell me, Dick. Tell me what happened."

Dick shook his head again, more vigorously this time.

"This isn't an option, Dick," said Slade; his eye flashing dangerously. "You keep conveniently forgetting that. What, did you and dear Brucey get into a little fight?"

Memories flashed unbidden in Dick's mind. He snapped his eyes shut, trying to block out the terrible images that were mocking him. Red. Far too much red – staining _his_ suit. Pain. Far too much pain – agony beyond anything. Dick began to shake his head, swaying to rid himself of the dark memories. He didn't want to remember that. He didn't need to remember that. It was over and done with – it wasn't going to happen again. Dick was far more careful now.

"Answer me, Dick. _What happened?_" demanded Slade.

The terrible sound from the memory shot through his mind again and then that laughter – that _awful, terrible_ laughter. Then, he was lost. Dick clamped his hands over his ears and screamed. It tore through his throat. Dick dropped into a crouch; curling up into a ball with his hands still over his ears as he was buried deep into past memories.

Slade's eye widened in surprise. He knelt down in front of Dick and placed a hand onto his shoulder.

"Dick, calm down," said Slade. Dick only swayed back and forth, long flowing murmurs of '_no, no, no_' spilling from his lips. His eyes were wide and glazed; disconnected from reality. Slade placed his other hand onto Dick's shoulder, firmly clasping him and squeezing his flesh once.

"Dick, that's enough. Calm yourself down."

But Dick still couldn't hear him.

"_Dick!_" shouted Slade, shaking him once. "Dick, come out of there. You're safe. Come back now, Dick. _You're safe!_"

Dick's eyes blinked once. There was another light shake, followed by more blinks. Hands slipped down away from Dick's ears to rest on his knees, one of his hands still clutching tightly onto his mask. His head lifted to look at Slade. For a long moment, contrasting shades of blue eyes stared into one another.

Then, with strong arms, Slade forced Dick to stand back up; pulling him to his feet carefully and with power. His hands dropped to his sides as he observed Dick with a perplexed eye.

Dick was frozen to the spot. He had lost control. It had been a long time since that had happened. No one knew. No one knew this would happen if he talked about the events that occurred before his fight with Bruce that ultimately forced him to leave Gotham City.

No one knew.

Because Dick hadn't told anyone – not even the Teen Titans.

It had been too traumatizing. If Bruce knew, he'd have locked Dick up in Wayne Manor and never let him out ever again. But Dick had been doing just fine on his own. _Robin_ was dealing with it. After all, _Robin_ could handle anything. He was dealing with Dick's trauma just fine, _thank you very much_.

Although, deep down, Dick knew that it was just a terrible lie to hide the obvious.

He wanted no one to know his weakness. He was a leader, a fighter. No one could know. No one needed to know. He was supposed to be strong. So, no one _ever_ could know his weakness. Slade could do whatever the heck he wanted to him and Dick would never tell him a single word.

Not a one.

Slade wouldn't be able to figure it out, either – Dick was sure of it or truly… Dick prayed that he wouldn't. But after his meltdown, he was sure that Slade would interrogate him – strip away the mystery as soon as possible; tear down his barriers of strength so that his weakness was laid open before him.

If he did, though, Dick doubted he could survive this.

But, the man didn't.

"We're going to bury Robin for a little while," said Slade, after another long moment of silence. "For now, at least."

It was then that the tears came, flowing freely deep from within Dick's heart and soul to slide easily down his cheeks; bringing him fully back to the reality that had just occurred. His mask – it had been removed. So, he had been right, finally: the tears did come once the mask came off. Dick closed his eyes, sending a fresh wave of tears down his face.

The mask slipped out of his fingers and fluttered noiselessly to the floor.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Fourteen: Contacting Superior Authority – Two weeks since Robin's disappearance and the Teen Titans still don't have any leads; therefore, they contact a superior for some help…

**Author's Notes:** Oh, my gosh. This chapter. When I first wrote this, it was too short. Took me over four run throughs to expand the length to my pleasure. Lots of labor, pruning, cleaning, expanding. But, can't imagine it otherwise. Funny enough, I wrote this before chapter twelve. For a week, I had no idea what was going to get Robin – now Dick, to this point. All I knew is that I needed this point. Powerful stuff. How's that for angst? LOL.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	14. Contacting Superior Authority

**Author's Note:** Man, I love all the reviews. Thank you so much – I really appreciate it! ^^

Also, to the **Guest** that said they love the father/son moments between Slade and Robin – I'm so glad you said that. ^_^

*whistles innocently*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Contacting Superior Authority**

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 1:13 am.**

Cyborg's fingers were flying across the keyboard as he worked diligently that night. He was filing yet another report for the police department on a criminal the team had just apprehended. Over the past two weeks, Cyborg had done so much paperwork he was ready to explode. He couldn't believe Robin had done all this work after every capture and never even complained once.

Not once.

Cyborg put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it slightly before he continued. He was almost done. Once he completed the document, off it'd go to the police department and he could then relax – for now, at least; until the next criminal struck again. He saved the document before pressing the enter key with finality.

Sent.

With a deep sigh, he turned away from the computer screen.

Two weeks.

It had been _two weeks_ since Robin had been spirited away in the dead of night from his room. In those two weeks, there had been quite a bit criminal activity, but nothing more than normal. In fact, it had been a little less.

There had been no Slade sightings.

They hadn't seen one of those annoying robots, no conniving plots to uncover – _nothing_. It was like the man had dropped off the face of the earth. He had stolen Robin and disappeared.

Robin's kidnapping had been kept under wraps by the entire team. Whenever asked, they only said that Robin was abroad in an undercover mission and they didn't know when he'd return.

Well, half of that was true.

They definitely didn't know when Robin would come back, if ever. Robin's disappearance had brought a terrible daily gloom over the group. Starfire was finding it harder and harder to fly, Raven's powers went temporarily haywire at times, and the biggest shock of all – Beast Boy didn't feel like playing video games or watching TV as much any more.

And Cyborg?

He found himself respecting Robin more and more as each day passed. The job of a leader was a heavy and hard one. Cyborg felt as if he had aged ten years in the past two weeks. He now fully understood Robin's worry and obsession over Slade. The man had threatened the safety of the team and the safety of the city. Cyborg fully understood the burden that came with being the leader.

No wonder Robin had donned the Red X suit and went undercover without telling them to gain Slade's trust.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have gained something different. Slade wanted Robin for some reason, but none of the Titans could figure it out. They just couldn't understand the man's reasoning – especially since he disappeared with Robin.

Thank goodness for the little footage they had of Robin's disappearance. If they hadn't had that, there would've been a large possibility that they, including Cyborg himself, would've thought Robin had left with Slade of his own feel will.

But because of the footage, it was very apparent that this hadn't been the case.

Cyborg clenched his fist and slammed it once against the computer desk. The helpless feeling inside his chest was overwhelming. They were just as close as to figuring out where Robin was as they had been the moment they found out he was missing.

"Cyborg?" He turned to see Raven walking up to him; setting her hood down to speak with him. "Are you okay?"

Cyborg let out an injured laugh.

"Okay? I haven't been 'okay' for years, Rae. But it's been even worse these past two weeks."

Raven nodded. "I know. I can't stop having trouble with my powers. I guess it shows how important Robin is to us."

'_How important Robin is…'_

Of course Robin was important. He was a friend, a best friend, a playmate, an accomplice, a mediator, a buddy, an older brother, a little brother, a leader – he was _everything_ to them. He was their rock, their foundation; the glue that kept them pieced together.

He was the one that showed each of them that they could start over – he had given each of them something to live for, something to accomplish.

Something to _be_.

And now he was gone.

Would he ever come back? Their friend, their brother, their leader? Would he be okay? Would he become withdrawn from his experience? Two weeks with Slade certainly couldn't be pleasant.

But what if they couldn't save him quickly? What if the weeks turned into months? What if they were more helpless than they truly ever imagined?

Such a terrible thought nearly drowned Cyborg's heart.

"I don't think…" began Cyborg in a whisper, "we've given Robin enough credit, you know. I never realized being a leader could be so stressful. The burden of everyone's safety is so heavy – I can't imagine how Robin did it for a whole year. Two weeks and I'm already set to pass the job back to him."

Raven nodded again slowly.

"We've been selfish, haven't we? Sometimes I wonder if it's our fault that he was kidnapped."

Cyborg's jaw clenched.

"Of course it isn't our fault! It's that psycho Slade's fault. He's the one that kidnapped him," snapped Cyborg. He let out a short huff and tried to calm his heart down. Raven only nodded to this. She slowly reached for a chair and pulled it near Cyborg as she sat down. She looked uneasy for a moment before she spoke up.

"I haven't mentioned my thoughts to the other two because I don't want them to worry more; to preserve their innocence," said Raven in a soft undertone. "But I'm really… concerned for Robin's health and wellbeing."

"Wh–what do you mean, Rae? You think Slade might've… might've killed Robin?" asked Cyborg nervously, his heart sinking into his stomach. While Raven was the type to be pessimistic over things in life, she tended to be accurate at times. Fear began to pump through his synthetic veins.

"I don't think so," answered Raven with a shake of her head. "Why go to the trouble in kidnapping him at all? But I highly doubt Slade is a kind and gentle person. If Robin resists him, which I have no doubt he will, then I'm sure Slade will do everything he can to suppress such efforts."

"You mean…" Cyborg trailed off, a chill sliding down his back as his thoughts flashed thousands of scenarios in his mind – all of which included a hurting Robin. Raven nodded lightly.

"I'm sure Slade will physically force Robin's obedience in whatever he wants," said Raven evenly; her voice void of emotion – yet the single glimmer in her violet eyes betrayed her intentions. "Perhaps, he'll even use psychological means as well."

"You think he'll brainwash Robin?" asked Cyborg in disbelief. "You think Robin is brainwashable?"

"I think to a certain degree, everyone is," said Raven; the light in her eyes darkening slightly. "Think about it, Cyborg: if you're being beaten, starved, caged, tortured, isolated, demoralized daily; wouldn't you do anything to get away from that pain? Everyone has a breaking point. It just depends how long Robin can hold out."

Cyborg sighed and leaned back in his chair. Man, it was downright frightening to think all those things could be happening to Robin. Would Slade really do all that? Cyborg wouldn't put it past the man – but he just couldn't bear the thought if that was really happening. Robin was going through a terrible trial all on his own. And they, his friends, were completely helpless to save him. Cyborg clenched his fists.

Helpless.

The Teen Titans were completely useless in this. They were of no help to Robin at all. Their leader had to remain strong all on his own. How was he doing? Was he hurting? Was he hungry? Was he lonely? Was he… scared?

A wave of despair flowed over Cyborg. What if their strong, brave leader was exactly that – _scared_. What if he was terrified of his captor? Robin was always strong, always unwavering – but what if, at that very moment, he had met his ultimate match? What if he was truly frightened in all this? Cyborg wasn't going to sugarcoat this; Robin was young. No matter the adult aura he emanated, Cyborg knew that Robin was young like Beast Boy in some ways. He was just fourteen; and while, yes, he had faced far more things that all of them combined, he still was young.

Robin could still get scared. He could still get lonely. He was human, after all; and a young one at that. Cyborg was older and he figured he probably could endure things a lot longer than the rest of them, but how long could young Robin hold up?

Because, even though Cyborg had never seen him, Cyborg knew there was a boy behind the mask; behind the hero. Would Slade strip down that barrier? What would happen to Robin then? Surely he'd be the same without that mask. Cyborg honestly doubted that Robin had two personalities. It wasn't like he'd been traumatized in his life.

Right?

Cyborg had long abandoned his old identity, Victor Stone. Becoming almost all machine did that to a guy. He didn't feel the same any more, nor did he feel the need to be the same. He had a new life and he loved it most of the time, even with its bittersweet nature.

But what about Robin? Who was he behind that mask? Without the mask, the Kevlar suit, the utility belt, he was just a fourteen year old boy who had been kidnapped by a powerful criminal who had _complete_ control over him.

It brought everything into a new light for Cyborg – one that was far brighter than he had ever imagined.

The Teen Titans were totally out of their league with this.

They needed help – desperately. They obviously couldn't handle this on their own any more. They needed help; someone who dealt with these types of things on a daily basis. But who?

Cyborg blinked; realization dawning in his mind.

"We need help – we can't do this on our own," said Cyborg quickly as his thoughts poured from his mouth. "We need Batman."

"Batman… That's…"

"Batman and Robin – the Dynamic Duo of Gotham City," said Cyborg, trying to hold back the slight excitement at the mere thought of actually getting a chance to talk with the Dark Knight. "Batman is Robin's old partner and mentor, and the world's greatest detective. If anyone can help, I bet he can."

Raven seemed to be thinking it over. Then, after a moment, she nodded. "I think you're right. Do you know how to get in contact with him?"

"Yeah," nodded Cyborg, turning back to the computer. He began bringing up the communication line; typing in a number of codes. "I know Robin build in a communication line with him, but he told me never, under any circumstances, contact him. Batman doesn't know that Robin connected the line, least that's what Robin said." With the final code entered, he turned back to Raven.

"He gave me the codes in case of an emergency. I'd say this is an emergency," said Cyborg. Raven nodded in agreement.

"We should all be present for the call."

"Right," said Cyborg, pulling up the communicator on his arm. "Yo, BB, Star; we need you in the main room."

Five minutes later and one depressed Starfire and one sleepy Beast Boy appeared in the main room. Starfire held an arm curled below her chest; clasping onto her other arm with her hand and looking very despondent. Beast Boy's eyes were halfway open as he gave out a wide yawn.

"Dude, it's late. I was going to bed," said Beast Boy, another yawn spreading his face.

"Sorry, BB. But this is important," said Cyborg. Starfire and Beast Boy looked at him with expectant eyes. _Here goes nothing,_ thought Cyborg with a mental sigh.

"Guys, it's been two weeks," started Cyborg. Beast Boy's pointed ears drooped suddenly as his countenance darkened in gloominess. He was fully awake now. Starfire seemed to take a similar stance as well. Cyborg pressed on. "Robin is still missing and we have no clues or ideas on how to save him. We need help. That's why we need to call Batman."

Beast Boy perked up at this, the happy nerd completely taking over. The gloominess that had once filled his countenance disappeared instantly. His green eyes sparkled as a wide smile spread through his face.

"We're actually gonna get to _talk_ to Batman!" asked Beast Boy excitedly. "Dude! This is so cool!" He suddenly lifted a hand to mess with his hair; slicking it back a few times, only for the spiked hair to pop back into its original location. "How's my hair? Is it okay?"

Raven rolled her eyes.

"This is serious, Beast Boy. This isn't a game," scolded Raven. Beast Boy nodded contritely, but his face was still filled with his childlike excitement.

"Please, who is this 'Man of Bats' that you speak of?" asked Starfire, looking from Beast Boy to Cyborg.

"He's Robin mentor," answered Cyborg. Starfire frowned still at this, looking confused. Raven sighed with a shake of her head.

"Something like a K'Norfka on your planet, you could say," suggested Raven. Starfire's bright emerald eyes matched with Beast Boy's in happiness and excitement.

"Glorious!" cried Starfire joyfully. "Robin's K'Norfka will be sure to know what to do."

"Right," said Cyborg, sounding slightly hesitant with Starfire's term. "All right, team. Gather around and I'll place the call. BB, try keep the nerd down."

Starfire and Beast Boy clustered around Cyborg, who turned in his chair to face the computer.

"Wait a minute," said Raven. "Gotham City is on the East Coast. There's a three hour difference from here. It'll be too late now."

"Raven, he's _Batman!_ He's nocturnal!" cried Beast Boy emphatically, as if _everyone_ should've known this fact. "He's the Dark Knight that roams the streets of Gotham at night! He—"

"I thought I told you to tone the nerd down," interjected Cyborg, hoping to cut off Beast Boy before the excitable green boy got too carried away. Beast Boy pouted and folded his arms.

"I'm just saying…"

Cyborg just shook his head before pressing the enter key. A waiting icon appeared on the full sized screen. _Please, be available… Please, be available…_

The call connected within moments and Cyborg's breath was taken away as he stared at the Dark Knight in awe and shock.

The man's presence, even on video chat, was dominating and intimidating. It was completely overwhelming. Cyborg's brain seemed to shut down in the mere presence of man. His black suit showed his body's strength and capabilities; powerful in all aspects. Through the cowl, Cyborg could see sharp, powerful blue eyes that were narrowed as they stared at the group. His complete presence and stance spoke of true power; one that instantly showed he was to be taken seriously.

Robin had to live with this man? Man, he was just plain scary!

"The Teen Titans," said Batman. His voice was deep and even; sending a wave of chills down Cyborg's spine. "What do you want?"

Cyborg couldn't think. It was just too much.

"This better not be a prank call," snapped Batman. Cyborg's brain booted back up.

"No, sir," said Cyborg quickly. "Um… we… that is…"

"What is it, then?" There was a pause as those sharp eyes narrowed again. "Where's Robin?"

"That's just it," said Cyborg carefully, thankful that the man had noticed Robin's absence. The terrifying presence intensified and Cyborg found himself leaning back in his chair nervously. He couldn't even imagine the effect if they were in person. He'd probably just plain faint.

He wondered lightly if he downsized the call window, if the presence wouldn't be so intimidating. Somehow, he doubted it.

"Where's Robin?" repeated the Dark Knight again; his tone turning harder.

"We think he's been kidnapped," said Raven. Cyborg swallowed at the terrible look in the dark man's eyes. They had widened briefly before pure anger filled them.

"When? Who?" demanded Batman, leaning forward slightly.

"Two weeks ago," said Cyborg, feeling nervous. "We think Slade kidnapped him, but we aren't sure."

"Yes, we are!" interjected Starfire indignantly. "Robin would never be that furious if it was not Slade."

Batman took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The look in the man's eyes was just downright scary. Nothing could scare Cyborg more now. This man was the ultimate in pure fright. Cyborg could take on anything now after his encounter with this man.

Robin actually _lived_ with this daily?!

"Robin's been missing for two weeks," began Batman in a low, icy tone, "and you are just _now _finding the time to tell me!?"

Oh, man; the man was gonna kill them.

"Um… yes?" said Cyborg timidly. Batman's mouth formed into a deep scowl.

"You should've let me know the _instant_ he was missing!" snapped Batman. How the man sounded as if he was yelling without raising the volume of his voice was beyond Cyborg. "You've wasted valuable time!"

Well, Cyborg had to agree with the man there. They hadn't really realized how bad the situation was. They had figured they could handle it on their own like they always did. Two weeks had sped by fast and with each passing day, it was terribly attested to their complete helplessness.

"I want all the information you have on his kidnapping," said Batman, his voice turning into a commanding, yet business like tone. The man leaned forward and began working on his computer. "Who did you say kidnapped him?"

"We're not actually sure _who_ kidnapped him," said Cyborg, bringing up the data, which included the footage of Robin the night he disappeared. He also gathered the data the team had on Slade.

"What?"

"Starfire's the only one to come to a conclusion," continued Cyborg, trying very hard not to shrink away from the frightening look in the man's eyes.

"Yes!" cried Starfire suddenly, pulling forward. "Mr. Man of Bats—"

"It's Batman."

Starfire hesitated, looking surprised by the man's interruption. But she was able to continue more calmly.

"Forgive me, Mr. Batman," said Starfire, her head nodding once politely to the man. "The video of Robin shows him very angry. I believe he was speaking with his abductor. I think it is Slade. Robin would never show such fierce anger against anyone but Slade."

Fingers flew on Batman's end of the video conference. The sharp blue eyes flitted back and forth as they absorbed information quickly.

"Why would this Slade want Robin?"

"Well," piped up Beast Boy, his eyes sparkling brightly. He was completely unaffected by the intimidation the man held. Cyborg wondered lightly if that was healthy. "Slade's like the baddest bad guy here. Robin was really set on bringing him down, you know. So, he decided to trick Slade into letting him in on his plans by dealing with him as a partner, named Red X. But it didn't work. Guess Slade wanted him permanently, seeing how well he did."

"He did _what?_" breathed Batman in a low tone. An icy wave of fresh chills slid down Cyborg's back. The man did _not_ look pleased – _at all_.

"Um, Robin went undercover," said Cyborg hurriedly. "He posed as a thief, named Red X, and tried to work up a deal with Slade. But Slade figured it out."

There was a stony pause.

"That _stupid_ boy!" snapped Batman, slamming his hands down onto his desk, causing the entire group of Titans to flinch in various degrees. "And you _let_ him do this? How could you? He shouldn't have done something so foolhardy and dangerous!"

"Um…" Cyborg hesitated. They hadn't _let_ Robin masquerade as Red X. Their leader had done it all on his own without telling them. But right at that moment, Cyborg didn't really want to let this _very_ angry man in front of him to know that. He was sure Robin was in enough trouble now without having to deal with a furious Batman on top of it all.

"We all agreed to it and planned it out together as a _team_," said Raven. "We agreed that it was a good plan. Slade was just smarter. It happens."

Cyborg was shocked by Raven's blatant lie. He turned his head towards her for a moment. She appeared calm and collect before the intimidating man. In fact, she looked a little upset.

"It was a stupid plan. You shouldn't have done it," said Batman.

"We did what we thought best," retorted Raven, a hint of irritation rising in her voice. "Slade is a dangerous criminal and we have to do what it takes to protect our city."

Cyborg could almost see the sparks fly between the two of them. Batman's sharp eyes glared into Raven's unwavering ones.

"Robin is our greatest priority now. We are worried for his health and wellbeing with this criminal," continued Raven firmly. "Slade is capable of many things. There's a possibility that Slade might force Robin to do things he doesn't want to do. The man might beat him, torture him, starve him, and even brainwash him."

Something passed through Batman's sharp blue eyes. Cyborg barely caught it, but he thought that perhaps it had been fear and worry.

"We do not have time to lament over past mistakes," continued Raven in her clear monotone voice. "We need to rescue Robin as soon as possible."

Cyborg was grateful Raven's maturity. She was probably the most mature out of the entire group, if Cyborg admitted it to himself. She was the most calm, the most level headed, and the most wise.

"And I will do so immediately," said Batman. "I have received your data as well."

"Oh, thanks, man," said Cyborg with a sigh of relief. Robin was going to be okay. Batman was going to help them save him. With Batman, they'll be able to rescue their leader, their brother, their friend quickly. "When you come to the Tower, we'll fill you in on—"

"Your interference will not be needed," said Batman, sharply overriding Cyborg. "You'll be contacted when I have found Robin."

And with that, the call ended abruptly. A chilling silence drifted over the group. A mixture of confused feelings flooded through Cyborg. A part of him wondered if they had done the right thing. But of course they did – Batman was going to help.

Just without _their_ help.

"Dude…" began Beast Boy. "That just totally crushed my image of the Dark Knight of Gotham."

Cyborg could only nod at that.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Fifteen: Vacant Gemstones – Dick is extremely depressed from the recent demasking and Slade has difficulty dealing with him.

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is pretty fat, but it totally needed to be. The Teen Titans don't get much "screen time" in this story, but they're still a very important part of the plot.

Dun dun dun…

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Saturday! (Yes, you heard right. ^^ Yes, that's tomorrow.) See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	15. Vacant Gemstones

**Author's Note:** Thanks a ton for all the continual support! ^-^ Love you guys so much! ^.^

Oh, I forgot to mention last time. When it comes to vocabulary I have a secret. You wanna hear it? Yeah, I bet you do. ^^ Alrighty, here's the secret:

I _live_ at Thesaurus dot com. Yup, I'll dump my usual standard word down and then go look up a better one when I'm just not feeling it. I _always_ have Thesaurus open in a browser tab when I'm writing. It's helped quite a bit for my chapter titles even. ^^

So, there's no need to remember when Thesaurus can do it for you! XD

Also, a Happy Mother's Day to all of you! Remember, Mother's Day isn't just for women who've had a child; it's for all woman – to celebrate and honor Motherhood. Inside of every girl beats the heart of a mother. Be sure to honor those women who have blessed your life with their love! ^-^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Vacant Gemstones**

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 6:34 am.**

The alarm was blaring loudly; the irritating sound bouncing off the walls in a grating manner. Dick didn't care. The constant beeping rang and rang in his ears, swamping his mind with its noise. Dick didn't care. He rolled over and stared at the clock, the alarm still roaring its annoying sounds. Dick reached towards the alarm and shut it off. Silence flooded the room, a peace blanketing the air.

But Dick felt no peace.

He rolled over, curling his legs to his chest as he hugged his extra pillow close to his heart. He was tired. His body ached in pain from the confrontation with Slade last night. He wasn't going to get out of bed – ever again. No one could make him leave the bed. No matter what _he_ did to him, Dick would stay. Maybe he should get some super glue and stick himself to the bed. With a soft sigh, he stared at the clean white wall, his eyes glazed over.

He wasn't wearing his mask anymore.

Robin was unmasked and the one who was lying in bed at that moment was Dick Grayson. He wasn't safe or protected anymore. It was odd; the safety he felt beneath such a small article of clothing. Something so small, so insignificant, yet it was everything to Robin and Dick's existence.

And now it was gone.

The barrier of his world had been torn down. Dick was unsure how to continue from here. He was confused and afraid. Without Robin, Dick wasn't sure if he could continue anymore. Robin had been his safety net. Dick had been hidden from the world for two whole years. He felt vulnerable, exposed and naked, and overwhelmingly depressed. No matter how hard he tried to lift himself up from the bed, his body felt like dead weight.

That was it. It was the depression that wouldn't let him get up. It wasn't something he could control. Slade would just have to deal with it. Dick couldn't even bring himself to care anymore. He didn't feel like moving. He didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like doing anything.

A tear slipped from his eye, sliding down the bridge of his nose.

ooOOOOOoo

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 7:52 am.**

Wintergreen looked up at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly at the time. Normally the child would be out and about by now. He was running late this morning. He glanced down the hallway, just to check to see if the boy would be coming down the hall now.

It was empty.

"Slade, I'm worried about the child. He's not rising this morning," said Wintergreen, sounding concerned as glanced back at Slade. "I knew you were too hard on him last night."

"He brought it onto himself," said Slade, sipping his morning coffee. "I warned him I wouldn't tolerate his poor behavior."

"Honestly, you need to be more gentle with him," chided Wintergreen, taking a seat at the table. "I'm sure if you were, he'd respond to that more. You catch more flies with honey, after all."

"I didn't ask for your advice," said Slade. Wintergreen chuckled lightly, throwing Slade a very wry smirk.

"You never do, but since when has that ever stopped me?"

"Mmmm…"

"Slade, you really should listen to me, though," said Wintergreen, turning serious. "You tore away his identity; his safe haven. You shoved the fact that you knew who he was the entire time in his face. He must be very unhappy right now."

"Maybe if he wasn't rebellious then this wouldn't have happened," said Slade, still in his unfeeling tone. "He knows I don't play games."

"And just what would you do if you were in his position?" asked Wintergreen, smiling as he looked directly at Slade's masked face. There was a long pause before Slade answered.

"I'd do exactly what he's been doing," said Slade.

"Exactly, so this is normal. You really should be softer with him."

"Not going to happen," said Slade with a shake of his head. "If being hard on him isn't working, what makes you think going soft on him will?"

"I just understand the child better than you. I have a sense about these things," said Wintergreen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well.

"Sure you do."

"I do, Slade; I really do. Why don't you go visit him this morning and try to cheer him up?"

"_Cheer him up?_" cried Slade, giving the man a raised eyebrow underneath his mask. "Have you gone mad?"

"I'm not angry," replied Wintergreen innocently.

"You know what I meant," growled Slade; annoyed at the old man's coy play.

"Come now, it's not that hard," said Wintergreen in playful, yet derisive tone. "Just go visit him and talk to him. Why not give him the day off, hm? Why don't you two do something fun together?"

"Now I _know_ you're going mad. Deranged, completely _deranged_," drawled Slade with a smirk in his tone. "Do something _fun_ together? What is this, girl scouts?"

"Oh, that's right. You don't know how to have fun," said Wintergreen, bringing his mug to his mouth without a smirk in his lips.

"Will, is that a challenge?"

"Was it? I wasn't aware that it was," said Wintergreen.

"Oh please, old man. You just love to play your games, don't you?"

"You know I don't respond positively to 'old man'," said Wintergreen with a light smile. He continued innocently, "I recall once that I might've accidently slipped too much starch into your laundry because I was so thoroughly affected by those two impish words."

"Is that a threat?"

"Perhaps…"

Slade let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You are quite something, Will. What; I'll never know."

"Why don't you try to see how the child is doing, hm?" Wintergreen gave him an entreating look. He then added again with his innocent smile, "Would save me a trip. You know these old bones of mine… They're beginning to creak."

Slade smirked beneath his mask and stood up. "Oh, I know what those bones of yours creak with, Will," said Slade dryly, before turning away to walk down the hallway; leaving behind a chuckling Wintergreen.

Slade strode through the hallway, stopping for a moment in front of Dick's room.

He knew he was hard on the boy. But he had to be. The boy wasn't making it easy on himself. If he insisted on being so troublesome, then Slade had to set him straight. He had much to teach him. He had so much to offer in the realm of knowledge and power if the boy would only stop being so stubborn. This wasn't just for Slade's advantage – the boy would greatly benefit from his knowledge. The boy would appreciate the effort that Slade was making on his behalf someday.

After all, the boy was far too young and inexperienced to decide such things on his own. Slade had lived for many years, had seen many things, and passed through the River Styx and back – and lived to tell the tale about it. Slade knew exactly what he was doing with the boy's education.

Sure, his methods were a bit unconventional, but Dick was an extraordinary boy – he could handle it. It would make him far stronger than he could ever imagine. He would be thankful one day – Slade was sure of it. Of course, once the boy got it out of his head that he was going to leave. Slade had to do what he had to for Dick to understand. It wasn't as if Slade _wanted_ to beat the boy – but sometimes that was the only way to get through that thick head of his. It wasn't as if there was any other way to get Dick to submit. Once he accepted his fate, he would appreciate it and even relish in it.

Dick would see one day. Yes, definitely.

Slade opened the door slowly without knocking and stepped into the room. He was a bit surprised that Dick was still in bed. He had thought that he would be up, but resistant in coming out. The boy was curled up underneath the comforter close to the wall. His breathing was slow, but it quickened slightly at the sound of the door opening.

So, he was awake but just lazing about in bed.

"You're late this morning, Dick. Get up," said Slade, trying to keep the annoyance he felt out of his tone. There was no stirring from the boy. He didn't even move or respond. He just continued to lie there in the bed. Slade repressed a growl. He hated it when the boy was deliberately obstinate. Why did he always insist on doing things like this?

"Get up, Dick. Now," warned Slade.

There was still no answer; no movement from Dick.

Slade stepped to the bed and pulled the comforter off. Dick's pajama clad form appeared. His legs were curled halfway and he was clutching a pillow tightly. He barely even flinched when the blanket had been pulled off.

"Dick, I'm not going to tell you again," said Slade.

"Leave me alone, Slade," said Dick, his voice sounding low and choked.

"So, it talks," said Slade in a dry tone. "Get up, _now_."

"You just told me again," said Dick in a quiet voice. Fury pulsed through Slade's veins. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the wrist, forcing him to turn away from the wall. Dick was rolled onto his back, looking up at him. Slade stopped suddenly, unnerved by the look in the boy's eyes.

The normally dazzling blue eyes were darkened with listlessness. They held a glassless glaze as they stared into Slade's single eye. They appeared almost vacant. Slade could just feel the terrible depression the boy was under. He hadn't quite ever seen anything like it before. The boy's eyebrows were low and the apathetic expression flooded all throughout his face.

"Are you going to hit me?" asked Dick in a soft, low whisper; sounding almost disinterested in his question. Slade fought the need to swallow, feeling completely set off guard.

"I will if you do not obey me," said Slade.

"Do it, then. I'm not getting up," said Dick. Slade raised his eyebrow at the short powerful, yet indifferent tone the boy was taking. Was the boy serious? How many beatings would it take for the message to sink in? The boy was _intelligent_, after all.

"Very well," said Slade, grabbing Dick's other wrist; pulling him forward to stand on his feet in front of Slade. The boy swayed slightly as he did so – almost seeming to have no strength in his body.

That got Slade a reaction: Dick's eyes widened slightly, but it disappeared after a quick moment. Dick then closed them and waited for the blow.

Slade complied with his expectations.

The boy whimpered softly as the punch connected with his stomach; doubling over from the impact. Slade pulled him upright before punching him again in the stomach. Dick let out a soft yelp at that. Slade pushed him onto the bed, staring down at him with a cold eye. He ignored the stray tears that began to slip down the boy's cheeks.

"Now get up," said Slade. "I won't allow you to mope around all day. You can just study today, but stop this 'woe is me' crap you're pulling. Get up, get showered, get dressed, and get your butt in the kitchen within fifteen minutes or I'll come back and give you another reason to obey that you _won't_ appreciate."

Slade turned away from Dick, walking to the door in two long strides before slamming it shut behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He was furious at the boy. Just how much was that boy going to try his patience? When was he going to learn?

Slade walked to his room, unlocking the door before slipping inside. His room held a large queen size bed that was positioned in front of the door; a little more than a foot away from the side wall and a number of feet from the door. On the right of the bed was a computer station with an office chair. He walked straight to it and settled deep into the leather fabric. He took off his mask and sighed, leaning his head back.

He could hear the sound of a shower turning on to the back right of the room – a sign that Dick was on the move. Good. The boy was obeying him. Why couldn't he have just done that before Slade had beaten him? Why couldn't he get it through that thick skull of his? It had been two weeks; fifteen days now. Dick was sharp as a whip; brilliant in all his studies. What was so hard about obedience?

There was a knock at his door before it opened slowly.

"Slade, I wish to speak to you," said Wintergreen, slipping into the room.

"What is it, Will? Now's not a good time," said Slade, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face.

"This can't wait any longer, I'm afraid," said Wintergreen, coming to stand right next to Slade. The younger man sighed deeply before turning to look up at Wintergreen.

"All right. What is it, then?"

"It's about Richard."

"What about him?"

"You're too rough with him."

"Oh, this again," said Slade, sighing dismissively. "Will, we just talked about this. You know what I'm trying to do with him."

"I do know. But I still think you're too hard on him. It's affecting him, if only you—"

"It's _his_ fault for being stubborn," snapped Slade. "He only does it to himself. If he only submitted and obeyed, then he wouldn't get beaten so many times. It's not that hard."

"You can't treat a child like this!" cried Wintergreen. "I just saw him before he went to the shower. He looks like death itself! What on earth did you say to that child? I told you to be soft this morning. He's going to break eventually – inside and out. You need to _soften_ your approach with the boy."

"I don't need to do any such thing!" snarled Slade.

"Yes, you do!" retorted Wintergreen, unaffected and not backing down. "Would you have beaten Grant? Of course not! Just because he looks like Grant doesn't mean—"

"_He's not Grant!_" shouted Slade venomously. He grounded his teeth furiously. How dare the old man bring up Grant. How dare he bring up old wounds. That had nothing to do with the now; the present. The old fool should just leave well enough alone.

"No, he is not," agreed Wintergreen. "But he is a boy whom you are trying to train as your apprentice like you did with Grant. You need to think!"

"Get out."

"Slade… Please, if you'd only listen to me—"

"_Get out!_"

Wintergreen glared at Slade for a few long quiet moments. Then, with a grudging sigh, he turned away. There was silence as he walked to the door. Before leaving the room, he stopped at the doorway.

"Did you think that his eyes would be so blue?" asked Wintergreen in a whisper.

A soft quiet laced through the air.

"No," murmured Slade with a sigh, after a long moment.

"Such stunning blue eyes, don't you think?" said Wintergreen softly in a very gentle voice. "Filled with hope, promise, love, kindness, desire, fire – so much in those two orbs; so much to offer, it's really quite amazing. Don't you think so?"

With that, Wintergreen left the room silently. Slade turned to the glowing computer screen that lightened the darkened room. He gazed at it, not really setting his eyes on anything in particular.

"Like gemstones," murmured Slade.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Sixteen: A Special Gift – After his bout of depression, Dick discovers a very precious gift…

**Author's Notes: **Haha, first time we hear Grant's name. (First time Slade POV, too) You should know that I'm doing a slight revamping of Slade's family. Not much, but some physical things. Joseph is actually unchanged, but Grant will look more like his mother. There's other things, but I'm not gonna spoil it because it's part of the plot! HEHE!

Not to mention, I changed Slade's age… He'd be in his seventies if I followed canon and that's just… *shudders* TOO OLD. You'll find out his exact age later. ^^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	16. A Special Gift

**Author's Note:** I'm so thankful for all the awesome reviews and continual support! Bless you guys! ^.^

You'll need to excuse me for a few moments while I fangirl scream. After learning that the author who probably inspired me to write my own Apprentice Fic is actually reading it; well, put me into a bit of a shock. XD

And that would be **Hanna Sedai** of "Northern Star". *bows politely* All your critiques have been well noted, so hopefully you'll notice a difference in further chapters. Of course… except the updating schedule, which is about to be discussed. XD LOL.

So, much to say, but don't want to overwhelm you with author's notes. First off, cover has been updated – yes, that's my own art. If you want to see a full size version, I'll be updating my DA with it soon. Plus, I drew an emo Dick. XD I have no idea why.

Next, for this week only, the updating will be increased. There is a five chapter arch that, according to the original schedule, would've been spread across three different weeks. This is an intense arch that changes the course of everything, so I think it's best to do it within one week. So, there will be an update every day this week – not Sunday, though; won't ever update on Sundays. Next week, I'll return to the normal scheduling.

Anyways,

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

**A Special Gift**

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 8:22 am.**

Dick wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the light off behind him. He felt abnormally weakened and tired. The shower did nothing to invigorate him like it usually did. He pulled open his dresser drawer and selected easy clothing for the day. Since Slade had said he was only studying today, there was no need for training clothes.

He slipped into a pair of tan slacks and a green t-shirt when there was a knock at his door.

"Come in," called Dick; unable to exert his voice very much. He wasn't sure what was going on with himself. The door opened and Wintergreen came inside again. He was wearing that same concerned look on his face when he had appeared before Dick went into the shower.

"Are you all right, child?" asked Wintergreen, eyeing him carefully.

"I'm fine," answered Dick quietly, glad for the man's calm nature right now. He wasn't sure if he could handle anything more. Wintergreen furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed. He slowly approached Dick and raised a hand to his forehead. Dick didn't have the energy to back away. The hand was cool and Dick found himself leaning forward slightly into the touch.

It felt nice.

"You're warm, child. I think you're getting sick," said Wintergreen, sounding worried. After a moment of observing, he nodded firmly and said, "That's it. Back to bed with you. I'll not have a sick child in this house. Not while I'm still breathing."

"But—"

"That's right. Get yours into bed right now," said Wintergreen, giving Dick a stern look. He pointed to the bed again. "Bed for you. Now. I'll talk to Slade."

Dick didn't question it anymore – he couldn't. Took far too much energy. So, he only nodded to the old man. Satisfied that he'd obey, Wintergreen left the room. Dick walked to the bed and collapsed into it, uncaring that he was fully clothed. He slid under the covers and sighed softly. His hair was still damp slightly, but it didn't affect him too much.

Especially since he was asleep in moments.

ooOOOOOoo

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 8:35 am.**

"Where's Dick?" asked Slade as he came into the kitchen. "We've waited on breakfast long enough."

_I swear, if that boy is disobeying me again, so help me…_

"I sent him back to bed. So, we'll be having breakfast without him," said Wintergreen, filling Slade's plate with a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

"_What?!_" snapped Slade. "Will, how dare you override my authority! How am I suppose to deal with him if he can run to you?"

"The child was about to fall over," retorted Wintergreen with a hard, stern glare at him; completely unaffected by Slade's harsh tone. "He needed more rest. I think part of his depression was because he's not feeling well. Why didn't _you_ notice earlier that he wasn't feeling well?"

Slade's retort died in his throat as he considered Wintergreen's words. The old man had a point. Why _hadn't_ he noticed if there was something wrong with the boy? Slade sighed as the answer came to him quickly – far too quickly.

Slade had been too clouded with his anger to notice. It was always like that, though. He had only thought the boy was gloomy because he chose to be so. He had been too ready to condemn the boy that he hadn't noticed his physical needs.

"I didn't notice," was all Slade allowed himself to say; sitting down at the table without looking at the old man. Wintergreen nodded lightly, sitting down as well with his own plate of food.

"Well, I'm not too happy with the child missing breakfast but there was no fighting it. He's probably asleep already," said Wintergreen.

"What… am I going to do when he wakes?" murmured Slade, mostly to himself; setting his elbow onto the table to rest his face into his hand. After a moment, he looked up. "If he's ill, then I suppose I'll allow him to have the day off."

"That would good," said Wintergreen with an approving nod. "That way he can recover faster. And he would like that. Why not do something extra nice for the child? It doesn't have to be much, but maybe something he'd appreciate. You know, something simple," Wintergreen added with an imploring glance.

Slade remained silent as he ate his breakfast; thinking seriously on Wintergreen's words. Something nice for the boy? Something he'd like?

Hmmm…

ooOOOOOoo

**September 26th, 2008. Friday, 1:07 pm.**

Dick opened his eyes, feeling a bit refreshed from his rest. He slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The deep depression he had felt earlier had faded considerably and he felt strengthened. Maybe Wintergreen had been right. Maybe he had just been a bit ill.

He pushed the covers off and set his legs over the edge of the bed. He felt a little chilled as his bare feet hit the cold wooden flooring. He stood up and went to his dresser for a pair of socks. His arms felt chilled as well so after he had slipped his socks on, he went to the closet.

Dick opened it, about to get a light jacket, before he stopped; looking up.

There was a cardboard box on the top shelf with the name 'Robin's things' written in black marker. The writing itself was elegant cursive handwriting, yet readable. Dick found himself lifting his arms and sliding his hands along the sides of the box, testing the weight slightly.

It was decently weighted – not too heavy, not to light.

Dick lifted the box and held it to his chest. His arms wrapped around it easily. It was median in size and folded closed. Dick walked to his bed and sat down, sliding backwards to lean his back against the wall. The box hadn't been there this morning, meaning it was just put into his closet while he was asleep. But who would put it there and why?

Dick unfolded the flaps and was instantly shocked by the contents. Inside were a number of his personal effects that he kept close in his old room in Titans Tower. There was his black iPod Touch on the top. With trembling hands, he picked it up. He couldn't believe it was real. He was just waiting for it to disappear from his fingers, only to wake up from the blissful dream.

He had missed music so much. It was one of the things that he loved. Not having any music for the past two weeks had been very hard on him. Plus, he had tons of photos of his friends on it. He turned it on; sliding his fingers across the screen to enter his passcode.

Had Slade really gotten this for him?

He quickly dug in the box, hoping to see if his headphones were inside. They were; large black recording style headphones. He also found a second pair of white earbuds. He slipped the black ones over his ears, the headphones completely encasing his ears. He plugged it into his iPod.

The soft, pop melody of one of his favorite Japanese artists played through and Dick choked back a half sobbing laugh. It was amazing how one could come to appreciate something so simple. He had taken something as simple as listening to a song for granted. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall; enjoying the peaceful moment.

After the song finished, he let his playlist continue as he went back to investigating the box. Inside he found his old DS Lite game system and the collection of games he had with it. He couldn't believe it. _Video games_. He had missed those so much; although, he really missed playing them with his friends and not by himself. But this was still a treasure.

Next, he found a smaller hard box with a lock on it. This box he knew all too well. Inside were simple childhood things he had collected over the years. They were stupid, silly things; but to a child they were treasures. The box itself had belonged to his mother once. It had been her jewelry box.

The final item in the box was something he _never, ever_ let anyone see and he was briefly mortified that Slade had seen it. But he still reverently lifted it out of the box, holding it carefully in his hands. It was an old, very old stuffed Easter lamb with light blue matted fur. His mother had given it to him when he turned five years old. It was a fairly feminine stuff animal for a boy, Dick had to admit; but at five years old, he hadn't cared. It was one of the few gifts he still had left from his mom.

That was all that mattered.

He briefly pulled it to his chest, breathing in the musty fabric smell of its fur before putting it back into the box. He placed his treasure box next to it and left out his DS, games, and iPod – along with respective chargers. He folded the flaps of the box and pulled the headphones off; slipping off the bed. He stood and set the box back at the top of the closet.

He turned back to his bed, staring at the leftover treasures.

Someone had gotten the items out of Titans Tower. Dick deduced that Slade probably had the very first night he took him away. Why go back, after all? Then, someone had to have brought the items into his room while he had been sleeping. He doubted Wintergreen did. The old man was decently nice, but Dick doubted that he had access to them if Slade had gotten them.

Which meant, Slade had brought the box into his room while he had been sleeping.

But why?

Why would Slade let him have something so special now? Especially after he had made the man angry this morning. It shocked Dick that the man had even gotten the items in the first place. But then now giving them to him…? What was the man's motive? Had it been because Dick had been so down about his unmasking? Was the man trying to be… nice?

Dick walked to the edge of his bed, bending down and grabbing his iPod. He clutched it in his hand as if he was still unsure it was real. He unplugged the large black headphones from it and grabbed the earbuds instead. He plugged those in and stuck the buds into his ears, smiling slightly.

He felt a strong need to say thank you. It hadn't been much, but Dick really appreciated it. If Slade really had gone out of his way to collect some of the most important items in his life and then return them; the man, at least, deserved a simple thank you. Basically being his kidnapper, there had been no reason to get those things for Dick. It wasn't that hard to show gratitude and Dick wouldn't begrudge the man a simple phrase.

He left his room and hurried down the hall towards the kitchen, finding Wintergreen resting in a chair and drinking from a mug. He was turning a page in his newspaper when he looked up, seeing Dick enter.

"Afternoon, Dick. How was your rest? How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling much better; thank you, sir," said Dick; making an effort to be polite. He hesitated for a minute, but continued, "Um, where's Slade?"

"Oh, let's see…" started Wintergreen, setting down his mug onto the table. A moment of thinking later, he said, "Probably in his room right now. Why, do you need something?"

"No, I just wanted to tell him something," said Dick, tightening his grip on the iPod in his hand. "Would he be mad if I bothered him?"

"No, child. Just knock and announce yourself. He'll come out for you, I'm sure," said Wintergreen with a warm smile on his lips. After a moment, he added, "Oh, and once you're done with him, wait in your room and I'll bring you a tray with your lunch. You need to keep up your strength."

"Okay. Thanks," said Dick, letting a smile lift his own mouth. He gave the old man a nod. He turned away and went down the hallway, turning to the left towards Slade's room. Once he reached the door, he popped the earbuds out of his ears. He took a deep breath before knocking lightly.

"Um, sir? Can I talk to you?" called Dick to the door. He waited as he stared at the wood, fidgeting slightly with his shirt as he waited. He heard movement inside and then the door slowly cracked open. Dick stepped back, giving the man space for him to come out. Dick wasn't expecting to be invited into the man's room. Slade stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind himself. Dick looked up into his masked face; suddenly feeling uncertain how to say what he wanted to say now.

"You're up. Are you feeling better?" asked Slade in a soft undertone.

"Ye–yes, sir," stammered Dick. "Um…"

"You said you wanted to talk to me?" suggested Slade, his tone lilting lightly in a questioning manner.

"Yes… um… I just wanted to say… that… um…" Dick trailed off, unable to formulate his words properly. Why did he have to suddenly be so nervous? He took a deep breath and tried again.

"Um… thanks, sir," said Dick, rather lamely. Slade's visible eye lifted as his eyebrow rose.

"For what?"

Dick pursed his lips nervously and lifted the iPod in his hand.

"You brought the box, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Did you get them now? Or when you brought me here?" asked Dick; carefully trying not to sound accusing, but innocently questioning.

"When I first brought you here, I had gathered some of your things," said Slade with a simple nod.

"Oh, I see," said Dick, looking down; feeling the nervousness rise back up in his stomach. "Well, I just wanted to tell you thank you. I appreciate the items."

Slade's eye widened slightly in surprise, but it quickly slipped back to its neutral state.

"Well," started Slade slowly, sounding a bit awkward, "you are welcome." Then, the awkwardness disappeared quickly again as Slade slid back into his impassive nature. Then, he fixed a scrutinizing eye on Dick. "Will mentioned that you were a bit warm this morning."

Slade's hand reached towards Dick's head. Dick flinched slightly, but the cool hand only rested on his forehead for a moment. Dick was surprised that he had flinched from the incoming hand. He hadn't done that with Wintergreen, so why was he doing it with Slade? Dick couldn't understand it.

Was he really afraid that Slade would always hit him?

But the man showed kindness at times. Like with his belongings and right now; the strong hand on his forehead checking for illness. Slade definitely was capable of softness. Why did he always have to be so harsh with him? Dick would probably respond better to the man more if he wasn't so cruel.

Probably a good thing he wasn't, then.

"You still seem a bit warm," said Slade, removing his hand after another moment. "I want you to take it easy today. You may have the day off. If you take it easy today, then you should be better tomorrow."

Dick nodded obediently. "Yes, sir."

"All right, off with you, then," said Slade, his eye showing evidence that he was smirking. Dick nodded again and walked to his room; a soft smile tugging at his lips. He shoved the earbuds in his ears and blasted one of his favorite rocks songs.

He went to his room and flopped onto his bed, enjoying the calm and relaxation. He didn't have to do anything today! He grabbed his DS and quickly put in racing game inside. Switching the device on, his smile broadened. So, all he had to do was take it easy, huh?

Well, that was easy.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Seventeen: Meridian – Two weeks have passed without major incident. However, while learning explosives from Slade, Dick does something extremely stupid.

**Author's Notes: **Arch begins tomorrow. ^^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Tuesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	17. Meridian

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so much. ^-^

Now this is why I should wait until I've finished a story completely, because I'm always needing to change things. XD So, I'm taking the advice to heart much more than I thought… I've been combining chapters so they aren't cut off in the middle of things for time.

…

You know what that means? That five chapter arch is now a three chapter arch – yes, what was meant to be two chapters is today's single chapter. XD So, you'll still get that arch just in three days, meaning Friday and Saturday I won't update. The combining of chapters has brought a chapter that isn't finished too close for comfort in the updating schedule. So, in the effort to continue to update regularly, I have to cut back on Friday and Saturday. But, the good news is chapters will be double in length much of the time.

Woo! *head desk* Rough chapter ahead, good luck.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Meridian**

**October 11th, 2008. Saturday, 7:32 pm.**

That single act of kindness from Slade lasted Dick for about two weeks. During those two weeks, he did pretty good. He held his tongue more and found that Slade was pleased with that. But there were times that Slade seemed displeased with his progress and during those times Dick was on the receiving end of the man's temper. Dick tried to be calm through it all, but he was quickly getting fed up. Getting used to the situation was terribly hard. There were days that seemed just that – a day. While other times, Dick felt he was internally going insane from being a prisoner of Slade.

He missed going outside – the sunshine, the fresh air, or just a simple breeze to flutter through his hair. He missed his friends. Some days he felt acceptance over his situation, but other days his brain protested viciously at its lot in life. He was terribly homesick, not to mention lonely. Wintergreen was warm at times, but after that 'senior moment' event, Dick was extremely wary of provoking the old man. The stress was beginning to build up inside Dick, threatening to burst at any moment and he was sure he'd probably unload it all onto the old man – just for the mere fact that he was the only possible candidate. No way he was going to bare his soul to Slade.

What a laugh _that_ was.

Dick was already tired. The schedule that Slade held him to daily was very wearing on him. The physical part of it was getting better since he was getting stronger, but the studying was making him go crazy. Not that he couldn't understand it all or anything – not at all. He was highly intelligent and had already graduated high school early just a few months ago. While he was thankful for the consistency at times, he was also irritated by it. He didn't want to learn certain things – like hacking into a computer or like learning how to shut down security systems without being detected.

He just didn't want to learn those kinds of things because he knew full well that Slade would one day make him _do_ what he had learned. He was absolutely terrified by that possibility. He didn't want to be a criminal – _at all_. He didn't want to fight on the opposite side of his friends. The mere thought of having to fight the Teen Titans in a clash like that made him sick to his stomach.

He was miserable, completely miserable. But he wanted to be happy, or in the very least be content with his lot in life. A part of his soul accepted that he was stuck and that he should make the best of it. He shouldn't always be unhappy. But, except from the tiny glimpses of softness from Slade, there just wasn't anything that could make Dick content with his situation.

There were times that he found himself wanting to please Slade. Being one of the only two people he interacted with daily, Dick couldn't help but want—need to please the man. After all, if the man was happy with him, Dick was in less danger of finding himself nursing another bruise. It felt extremely strange wanting things from Slade.

But… There were times Dick felt guilty – guilty that he wanted to be happy here; guilty that he wanted Slade's approval. He was living with a criminal, a mercenary, an assassin that made his income contracting under other criminals to do things that Dick didn't even want to think about. But being unhappy and miserable was not pleasant or fun. Dick was tired of being sad about things in life. He just wanted to be normal and happy – just a normal teenager.

But as he was studying how to make an explosive right at that moment, it just wasn't quite possible.

"Stop," said Slade, putting a hand up irritably. "You do that and you'll be peeling yourself from off the walls when you try to set it off."

Dick growled and shoved the equipment forward, folding his arms. He turned his head away obstinately. The large gears constantly _clinked_ loudly overhead; only to serve as an aggravator to his annoyance. He was sick of this. He didn't want to learn how to make this junk. He could just afford to keep plenty of these things in his utility belt. There was no need to learn how to create makeshift explosives. It wasn't like he was MacGyver!

"There's no reason why I have to learn how to make this crap," snapped Dick. It was nearly dinnertime and he was probably getting hungry. Hunger plus a long day equaled one very cranky Dick – which also meant his rein on his mouth suffered. Slade growled and shook his head.

"That is for me to decide and not you," said Slade; his grey blue eye glinting firmly. "I am, after all, the teacher here."

"Could've surprised me," muttered Dick, sliding down low in his chair unhappily.

"What was that?" breathed Slade.

"Nothing… _sir_," said Dick, adding the sir very grudgingly. Slade's chest heaved in aggravation as he placed his hands on his hips for a moment. He then pointed to the equipment.

"Try again, Dick," said Slade, emphasizing each word carefully. Dick could tell the man was trying to hold back his anger. He grumbled a deep sigh and sat up, grabbing the supplies back again. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to go back to his room and just ignore everyone. He was sick of all this.

Slade shook his head and grabbed a chair; pulling it up next to Dick. His large shoulder bumped into Dick's as he leaned in and pointed out instructions. Dick flinched lightly at the sudden contact, but then silently followed the man's directions; stopping or redoing when the man told him to. He was uncomfortable with the closeness. Anytime he was close with the man, it was usually with a fist causing him pain.

But, Dick continued to pay attention. Not paying attention would not make the man happy with him, after all. Dick reined in his irritation as best as he could, listening to Slade's instructions quietly. The man was taking him through each step carefully, warning him of dangers. Slade emphasized the dangers for quite a few minutes. Dick fought not to roll his eyes. Once again, he was being treated like a little kid. He _knew_ the dangers of explosives. He used them all the time for crying out loud – and usually Slade's robots had received the brunt of them.

"And don't you ever try to do this without me around," said Slade. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Dick sighed, hating the honorific Slade had been forcing him to use lately. It was okay when Dick offered it up, but it just annoyed him when Slade expected it from him.

"Yes, _sir_."

"Good boy. You're improving very well. Keep going," said Slade, nodding once. Dick fought against the urge again to roll his eyes; trying to ignore the glow of pleasure in his chest that he felt over receiving the man's praise. He hated being so conflicted with his feelings. His soul wanted praise no matter who it came from, while his mind screamed at him for accepting such praise from a criminal.

So, Dick only nodded in acknowledgement and continued working. The table he was working at had been set up in the main room. While he could understand not working in the basement, he couldn't stand the constant _endless_ sounds of the gears. It was so annoying. Grinding, grating, irritating sounds.

But despite his complete aggravation, he tried his hardest to understand the parts and equipment in front of him. It was soon that he began to get the basics of the device and it was then that he was stopped by Slade.

"Excellent work, Dick. That's enough for now," said Slade, his tone filled with approval. "See? When you stop griping about it, you can learn well."

"Wow, praise mixed with criticism. Whatever will I do?" drawled Dick sarcastically with a light smirk. Slade chuckled in a low voice as he shook his head.

"Soon you'll be using explosives of your own creation to infiltrate whatever place sets your fancy."

Dick frowned and narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that? I'm not going to steal."

"You will in time."

"I don't want to be a criminal, Slade," said Dick in a serious tone. "I don't want to learn how to steal or how to destroy things." He avoided saying that he also didn't want to learn how to kill. After all, if he didn't want to steal, he sure as heck didn't want to kill anyone. It was implied and he really didn't want to hear the man's counter opinion on the matter at that moment.

"Time erodes all feelings," said Slade. "It will come with time. You will learn and you will enjoy it – of that I have no doubt."

Dick's heart quickened as anxiety flooded his chest. No, he would _not_ enjoy stealing. He would _not_ enjoy being a criminal. He didn't want to even think about the possibility of his nature changing to that point.

"No, I won't," said Dick flatly. "It's wrong. I want to do the right thing."

"Morals are relative and fluctuating. Humans change them all the time to suit their needs," said Slade; his tone sliding into his even, impassive one. "No matter what 'morals' humans place upon themselves, they will ultimately do what pleases them."

"Then, I _want_ to do what _I_ think is right," said Dick. "I don't want to steal. I don't want to kill. I don't want to be a criminal."

"You are just repeating the morals that were drilled into your head by that bat," said Slade with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're young; you haven't lived long enough to understand the reality of life and the contemplation of morals."

Dick folded his arms in frustration and turned his head away from the irritating man. Slade could think whatever he wanted, but he was wrong. Batman had taught him some things on the matters of morals, but he wasn't his first teacher.

Dick had noticed Batman display a lot of controlled anger towards his enemies as he took them down. When Dick had questioned Batman why he never killed his enemies, Batman had quipped dryly, "Too much paperwork." But then, he had turned serious, "If I killed them, then that would make me just like them. Killing is not the answer."

Dick had accepted that answer from Bruce. He did find it interesting that while the man said that, it hadn't stopped him from sometimes sending some of his enemies to prison in casts – sometimes even full body ones.

But it had not been Bruce that had brought up the subject of morals first in his life. After all, the man wasn't his father.

No, it had been his dear mother who had gently taught him right from wrong. Mary Grayson had been a Christian, and therefore, Dick had a basic understanding of such doctrine. His mother was a very gentle teacher and kindly nurtured him as she taught him things. His father had not been a religious man, but he had supported his wife in her beliefs.

Dick breathed in deeply, overwhelmed in the memory of his mother. She had been such a soft and tender woman. He could remember the warmth of her body as she held him in her arms. He could still remember how she always managed to smell like gingerbread – probably because she baked it often. There were many times when her nurturing hands would envelop his face as she looked kindly down at him. Even when she scolded him, she had done it gently within those hands; like surrounding him in her love and protection.

She had been _so_ kind, _so_ gentle,_ so_ soft in the way she had taught him principles of life that Dick didn't want to disappoint her even so many years after her death. He knew she would be sad if he disobeyed the things she taught. Although, he wasn't exactly religious like she had been, but he wanted to please her no matter what.

Dick was overwhelmed by nostalgia in a powerful sweeping wave of emotion. It rose up high in his chest, nearly overpowering him to tears. He needed to get out of here. Slade was making him remember things that were painful. He had to escape. He just had to get out of here. He was getting complacent; inattentive and even apathetic with his situation – that was perilous.

No more sitting around. No biding his time. He had to get out. Slade was going to change him in ways he couldn't and wouldn't change in.

He had to escape.

Dick looked down at the project he had been working on; his mind racing wildly. Wintergreen had said the entrance or exit had been sealed at his arrival. Well, Slade wasn't too smart for teaching Dick how to make an explosive. If the exit was sealed off, then he'd just have to blast his way through.

"You'll understand with time," said Slade, breaking through Dick's thoughts. "I know—"

Slade stopped as he stood up. Dick glanced up at the man, his eyes following in the direction of the man's gaze. He was staring at the main computer frame. He pushed the chair back more and pointed at Dick.

"Stay there; don't move. Something's come up and I'll only be a moment," said Slade, turning away from him and walking over to the computer. He sat in the chair, turning to face the computer screen. Dick craned his neck to see what was going on, but he couldn't see anything at all.

He looked back down at the device in his hands; his eyes flittering back nervously to Slade.

What he was thinking was absolutely crazy. If it even worked, he doubted he could get far. The man could overpower him in strength and probably speed. Was Dick willing to risk enraging the man if it didn't work?

Dick gritted his teeth. He was tired of being content and comfortable with his captor. He had to try; in the very least _try_. His friends wouldn't forgive him if he just contentedly stayed and accepted his fate without a real fight. Bruce would be greatly annoyed if he didn't take a chance at his freedom from the madman.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. This was crazy. This was absolutely crazy. If it didn't work, Slade would be raging mad at him. There would be no word on the planet to describe the pure rage that would be completely directed towards him. Slade would kill him – completely and totally kill him.

Was it worth that risk?

Carelessness tore through Dick's soul as he grabbed the device and activated it. He jumped to his feet; his heart palpitating in its excitement. He hurled the activated device across the room towards the nearest wall.

There was a brief second before there was an enormous explosion.

Dick was blown back from the force of the blast, the heat terribly hot against his skin. He skidded along the floor on his back until coming to a stop. He laid on the floor, heavily panting from his insanity.

He had done it. He had actually tossed that thing against the wall. It had exploded. He had built it under Slade's watchful eye and had actually _built_ an explosive that worked. A small bit of pride rose up in his chest for a moment.

But it was fleeting as he remembered the reason for his lunacy. He quickly sat up, relatively unharmed from the blast as best as he could tell, thankfully. As the smoke faded away slowly, Dick's eyes widened in shock.

The wall was completely intact, undamaged by the blast. The only remnant of possibility that an explosive had been tossed at it was the marking of the fiery blast; spider trailed upwards in black soot. Dick's chest settled slightly in disappointment. He had failed. It hadn't worked. He was still trapped.

Then, panic flooded through his heart as turned his head to glance at Slade.

Slade was terrifyingly infuriated.

The man was slowly standing up from his chair by the computer. The blast hadn't reached that far. Even with his mask on, Dick could feel it from across the room: the pure fury that emanated from the man as his only visible facial feature was wide and furious.

Slade marched over to him. Dick scurried backwards on the ground, but Slade was on him in a second. He clasped Dick by the underarm in such a tight grip, Dick thought his arm would go numb. In a fluid movement, Dick was pulled to his feet and dragged away. The panic rushed over him like a flood. He had just done something very stupid – he knew it. He shouldn't have done that. Slade was furious. Why'd he go and do that? How _stupid_ could he get?! Slade was going to kill him now. Dick wished the man would loosen his grip on his arm; his hand was hurting him.

Although, Dick knew full well that when the livid man did let go, he was in for a whole other world of hurt.

"S–Slade—please, I'm—"

"_Shut. Your. Trap_," said Slade, emphasizing each word in a low icy tone. It sent a wave of chills to slide down Dick's back. His thumping heart began to palpitate anxiously. Dick's eyes began to water as the anticipation of what was about to happen began to overwhelm him. He was dead – so dead. Slade was gonna kill him.

Or at least, Dick would wish that Slade had.

Slade stopped suddenly near a wall, far away from the explosion area, and turned a very sharp eye on him. He grabbed Dick by the upper section of his arms with both hands as he stared at him. His single grey eye flittered up and down, and Dick got the distinct impression that the man was, perhaps, checking for injuries.

That couldn't be right… Right?

"Are you injured?" asked Slade extremely slowly, his voice soft and all encompassing in pure foreboding. Terrified by his tone, Dick quickly shook his head silently. To be honest, he was too scared to death now to really notice if he had been injured at all by the blast. He didn't feel injured, though. Slade's chest heaved deeply after a moment.

"I… see. Good."

Then, Slade slammed Dick against the wall, sending a fierce punch into his stomach immediately afterward. As Dick doubled over in pain a knee slammed into his chest. A cry tore from his mouth as the wind blasted out. He gasped as he was slammed back against the wall. Slade leaned down slowly, coming face to face with him.

"What were you thinking, boy?" snarled Slade in a low voice.

"I–I—"

"_What were you thinking!?_" shouted Slade. "You could have killed yourself! Or Will! Tell me, I'd _love_ to know. _What. Were. You. Thinking?_"

Dick gasped and closed his eyes, his breathing erratic and heavy. The man had a terribly frighteningly grip on him and he wasn't letting up anytime soon either.

"_Answer me!_"

"I–I'm sorry!" cried Dick hurriedly, hot beads of tears sliding down his face. He was scared; oh, so terribly frightened beyond anything he had ever felt before in his entire life. He had never felt this much pure cold wrath from the man ever before. The man was livid; totally livid and enraged.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for, Dick!" snapped Slade. A hand cracked across Dick face, pain flashing through his cheek afterwards. He was forced to look back at the masked man.

"I don't know!" cried Dick hysterically, the words tumbling from his mouth in a hurry. "Yo—you said I was sealed in here s–so I just thought I could blow a hole in the wall and escape."

Another blow punched into his stomach. Soon after a kick smashed into his side; sending Dick flying to the side to crash, skidding, to the floor. He shuddered as the pain ravaged through his entire body. Slade walked over to him, grabbing him by his upper arms. He pulled Dick up to his feet as if he weighed nothing more than a feather and slammed him against the wall again. Stars popped in his eyes from the impact.

Dick's pounding heart couldn't calm down. Sweat poured off his skin; pain throbbing terribly throughout his body. He was hot. He was hurt. He was scared.

Oh, was he so terrified.

"_So_," drawled Slade, his extreme displeasure evident in his tone, "you got it into your head that you could use that explosive as if it was perfectly useable, without any previous training in the field _whatsoever_, and just toss it against the wall in the hopes it would explode? Have I got that right?"

Dick nodded jerkily, thinking it best to stay silent.

"You idiot boy!" cried Slade, shaking Dick once against the wall in his rage. "Do you have _any_ idea how stupid that was!"

Dick glared through his tears of fear and pain.

"I'm not freaking child, Slade!" snapped Dick, momentarily forgetting the frightening possibility of his outburst. "How many times do I have to repeat myself? I'm not stupid. I knew what I was doing."

"Is that right?" snarled Slade derisively. "So, you have _years_ of experience in this? You knew _everything _I was teaching you? Tell me your _dear_ Batman educated you in this field, _hm?_ How many years now? _Tell me, boy!_"

The fear flooded back through Dick as he bit his lip and averted his eyes. This only gained him a harsh slam against the wall again.

"Look at me!" snapped Slade. "Look at me and answer the _blasted_ question!"

Dick whimpered as he tried to form the words in his mouth. "I–I—he di–didn't! You only just taught me!"

"And what on _earth_ gave you the idea that you could use it to blow yourself up!" demanded Slade. "I thought I made it _perfectly_ clear of the dangers! Were you even _listening_ to me?!"

"I didn't blow myself up! I was only trying to blow the wall away!"

"_You could've been killed, you idiot child!_" hissed Slade piercingly through gritted teeth. "You could've killed yourself; you could've killed Will – or in the very least permanently injured yourself." Slade grabbed Dick by the shoulders and shook him once, his tone turning into deep exasperation and almost desperation. "Why can't you think before you act?!"

_Huh…?_

Dick blinked, his eyes widening as he stared up into Slade's infuriated grey blue eye. He could see the deep fury inside it; but as Dick continued to study it, he noticed a glimmer of worry and fear. Mixed with the cold rage, there was an anxious, fearful, and concerned look deep within the man's eye.

Slade was… worried? About him?

That was it. Shockingly. The man had been _worried_ – actually worried that Dick would've hurt himself or killed himself. He was worried for his safety. Dick had made the man almost frantic with worry. That was it.

Wasn't it?

Tears overflowed. Hot beads streamed down his face. His lips trembled uncontrollably as he tried to hold back the sobs that were dying to break forth. The tumultuous emotions poured and overflowed within his heart. He quickly lifted a hand to his face and wiped at his cheeks in attempt to stem the flow. But the tears didn't stop.

"I'm—I'm sorry," choked Dick finally. "_I'm so_ _sorry_."

Dick's chest heaved as he coughed once, the tears ever streaming down his face. He must look totally pathetic to Slade; crying his eyes out like this. But the thought of making the man worry over him made Dick feel ashamed. His heart wanted to make it up to him. If Slade forgave him right now, then Dick would do everything he could to be cooperative.

But that just wasn't going to happen.

"Oh, you _will_ be. Very sorry indeed," said Slade in a terribly icy tone. "So sorry that you can't even _begin_ to imagine."

"Wa—wait, please," cried Dick, holding his hands up protectively. "Please, you don't have to. I–I understand. I swear I won't do this again. Pr–promise! I'll do better. I swear—"

He was cut off by a _thump_ as a fist crushed into his stomach, all sounds disappearing in his throat as the wind was once again blown out of his lungs. Gasping, Dick collapsed to the floor, curling up into a small ball. A sharp kick came into his side and he cried out in pain.

"Slade, stop this at once!" cried Wintergreen's frantic voice. Dick hadn't even realized the man had entered the room. "You don't need to do this to him! There's another way!"

Tears of pain slid from Dick's eyes and down the bridge of his nose as he lay on the floor. His vision was fading slightly. That was good. That meant he would pass out from the pain soon. He'd be free from it for awhile then. He wouldn't have to think. He'd just be temporarily safe in the blackness.

He hoped it would come soon.

"I have, numerous times, been soft with the boy," said Slade in a slow exact tone, darkness flowing from it. "But it is obvious that this is ineffective. He asked for it. I am merely gratifying his request."

"He didn't ask for this and you know it!" snapped Wintergreen. "Please, Slade—"

"You are not needed here, Will. Be on standby, though," said Slade tightly.

Slade bent down and grabbed Dick by the arms again, pulling him back to his feet. Dick whimpered as his squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable blow. There was no bother fighting back. It would only make it worse. If Slade had softened like Wintergreen wanted… Dick probably wouldn't have been able to refute his commands anymore. He would've obeyed him – perfectly. No more rebelliousness. No more back talk. Dick would've finally accepted that he was never going to escape.

But now, Dick hated the man – hated him with everything in his soul. It hadn't mattered if he was sorry for his stupid mistake. It was too late now. It had to be too late. There was no going back. The man would never change, never be soft. It was all a trick – a trick to get Dick to obey and be under the sadistic man's control. Slade didn't care about Dick's safety. He only cared about his perfect obedient 'apprentice'.

What a joke. There was just no way Slade actually _cared_ about Dick.

The blow cracked into his chest, while a second smashed into his side. He collapsed to the cold floor in a heap of pure, throbbing sharp pain. He was pulled up on his feet again. Dick swayed, blinded by the pain; his chest heaving in pain and soft sobs. A sharp backhand cracked across his cheek, then another. With one final punch to his stomach, Dick collapsed to the floor. Blackness faded over his eyes just before he felt another kick to his side.

He welcomed the darkness thankfully as the hot tears streamed endlessly down his cheeks.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Eighteen: Anger Management – Dick gets furious at the injustice of his reality. Wintergreen is now completely fed up with the situation and demands that Slade try a different approach with Dick or let him go.

**Author's Notes: **So, half of this was my so called "beatdown" chapter. Could you imagine being cut off right when the explosion hit? Heh…

I honestly hate doing it. I don't like beating up Dick/Robin. I prefer other ways of torture, which you'll see so very soon this week. *giggles* ROTFL. Yeah, but even with the beatdown, I love Slade during this. I think you see something very important with him.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	18. Anger Management

**Author's Note:** Once again a big thank you to all of you who review and who are reading! ^-^

**Meridian:** archaic definition: the hour of noon, midday; a high point; Synonyms: summit, peak, climax.

I chose that title for the previous chapter – actually it was specifically for that "beatdown" section – because I believe it's a climax in the story. It's the catalyst that forces Wintergreen's hand. Without it, the ending is not possible. Without it, what happens in this chapter is not possible. I like the old definition of it: the hour of noon. It really is something like that. ^^

Ah, I'm glad the chapter was more readable and flowed better. ^^ As for the repetition, that is completely done on purpose (unlike them pesky adverbs!). It's a style choice so hopefully that isn't ruining the reading experience. O.O I must send out a thank you, though. Your suggestions have been most helpful and even ended up lifting my work load. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Anger Management**

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 6:00 pm.**

Dick was awake before he opened his eyes. The events of the previous night flooded through his mind. As he watched the memories and scenes play in his head, an enormous uncontrollable wave of fierce anger rose in his heart. He hated Slade – _hated_ him. The man hadn't needed to continue beating him. Dick was furious at him. He felt that he had been unjustly dealt with. Yes, he did something completely stupid and deadly dangerous, but that didn't mean Slade could vent his fury on him.

And Wintergreen was no help at all. The old man meant well enough, but he was of no use. Dick hated him too for allowing Slade to have his way with him; even though deep down he understood that the old man didn't have any power over Slade. Dick still felt resentful towards the old man – he just couldn't help it right now.

They had made his life a total misery, an inferno of pure torment and suffering. So be it, then. He'd just return the favor. No way in heck he was going to do anything they said. He had tried, he really had; but no more. He was done with them. They were just going end up being cruel anyways. Might as well make the experience just as miserable for them.

With his thoughts in a whirl, he didn't notice right away that he wasn't in any pain.

He opened his eyes quickly. That's right – he wasn't in pain. There were no aches and pains, no muscles screaming at him in protest at the harsh reality. He felt fine. Well, that was debatable, but physically he felt fine. He slowly sat up, the covers pushing forward. There was a sharp intact of breath in the room and then a cool hand pressed at his forehead.

Shocked by the sudden contact with humans, Dick flinched violently; smashing his back against the wall with his eyes wide against the hand. His breathing intensified. He didn't want _anyone_ touching him. He hated everything and everyone. Anyone who was around him only ended up hurting him. He didn't want anyone to be near him. He didn't—

"Child!" cried Wintergreen's voice. "It's all right. It's only me. I'm not going to hurt you. Calm yourself."

Dick focused his eyes. Sure enough, the old man was sitting on the chair from his desk, close to the bedside, and staring at Dick with large concerned eyes. Dick let out a slow breath, taking another deep breath afterwards. It was okay. The old man wouldn't harm him directly. He only let Slade do that for him.

Dick's eyes narrowed at Wintergreen.

"Wha—what are you doing here?" asked Dick; suspicion dripping throughout his tone. He didn't bother to be polite at all. This old man wasn't his friend. No matter how often the old man smiled at him, he was not to be trusted.

"I tended to your… _injuries_," said Wintergreen, sounding as if the words tasted bad in his mouth. "I gave you a shot of the healing serum and you seem to be doing much better, thank goodness."

"Shouldn't have needed a serum in the first place," snarled Dick.

"I agree."

"Then why didn't you stop him!" cried Dick, uncaring that his tone was filled with betrayal. "You always seemed… like you actually _cared_. Unlike _him_."

"I do care. Very much, in fact," said Wintergreen, his tone filled with a soft kindness. However, his face slid away into a stern glare that made Dick squirm suddenly. He didn't like _that_ look.

"Which brings me to a subject I never got a chance to discuss with you," said Wintergreen; a firm glint entering his eyes. "I must say I do _not_ agree with what Slade did to you, but that doesn't mean I'm at all pleased with your latest stunt. You could've blown yourself up! I thought you were _intelligent_."

Dick ground his teeth furiously. First Slade knocked him around and now the old man was giving him a lecture. He was sick of it – completely fed up.

"I _am_ intelligent!" protested Dick, glaring at the old man.

"Could've fooled me," said Wintergreen with a lifted eyebrow. He shook his head and sent Dick a fierce frown. "I swear, I have a half notion to pull you over my knee and warm your backside for an hour."

Dick bristled, feeling alarmed; knowing full well the old man could and _would_ make due on that notion.

"Shut up!" snapped Dick defensively. "You have no right!"

"Oh, I have _every_ right, young man," retorted Wintergreen. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. And that is _not_ something I need at my age, _thank you very much_. Terrified me right out of my wits you did. I've never been so scared in my life. I thought you were seriously hurt! Can't tell you how thankful I was to see you well." Wintergreen breathed a sigh of relief, before sending a wry, yet frightening smirk at Dick. "Although, after that, I must admit, I was so ready to shake you and tan your hide so fast that it'd make your head spin. But I personally think Slade sent the message of how stupid your stunt was home enough. So, you're off the hook with me."

"I shouldn't even be _on_ the 'hook'," shouted Dick, slicing a hand in the air and nearly smashing it into the wall. He was taken aback that he had made the old man worry so much. But at that moment, he didn't care. No matter what these men said: they weren't to be trusted. "I should be back home in Titans Tower! I shouldn't even be here! I hate it here. I hate Slade. I hate you. I hate _everything_. Get out already!"

"Young man—"

"_GET OUT!_" screamed Dick. The old man stood, looking thoroughly displeased with him, but Dick didn't care. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to be around anyone. He needed to think. He was going to go crazy.

Wintergreen slowly walked to the door, pausing a moment. He glanced back at Dick, a determined look filling his face.

"Everything will get better from now on. That much I will promise you."

Dick was moving without even realizing it. The fury in his veins was making him do things without his control. He ripped the digital clock out of the wall and chucked it at the old man with all his power; a closed, muffled scream in his mouth ripping his throat. His aim was off because of the blinding rage he felt in his blood. The clock smashed into the open door about a foot away from Wintergreen's head. It shattered into endless pieces and fell to the floor instantly.

Wintergreen looked momentarily stunned. But he didn't say anything as he closed the door behind himself.

Dick's check heaved up and down as he gasped for breath through his fury. Sobs threatened to burst through his wall of strength. Growling and using his anger as a barrier, he reeled in his tears. Crying wasn't going to get him out of this situation. He was destined to stay; bound by the abusive Slade for the rest of his life. He wasn't going to be happy. No matter what he did, there would be no peace for him.

Nothing was going to change Slade, after all.

ooOOOOOoo

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 6:05 pm.**

"How's the boy?" asked Slade immediately as Wintergreen walked into the kitchen. The old man pitted him a harsh glare before turning away; walking to the countertop and beginning to pull a number of items out of the cabinets. So, the old man was angry at him, hm?

"Well?" prodded Slade. Wintergreen slammed a can onto the countertop and whirled around furiously.

"How do you think?" snapped Wintergreen, his tone dripping with venom – a rare sign that he was positively livid beyond measure. "Just how do you think he's doing? He was beaten until unconscious last night. He hates you!"

"In time he'll—"

"In time he'll _what_, Slade?" growled Wintergreen, interrupting him. "He'll _like_ you? _Adore_ you? _Praise_ you? View you as a wonderful_ benevolent teacher_ and _mentor?_" Wintergreen scoffed. "That's such crap and you know it."

"He nearly killed himself last night," argued Slade. "What was I suppose to do? Slap him on the wrist, wag my finger at him, and call him a naughty boy?"

Wintergreen folded his arms and shot Slade a considering look. "So, you _were_ worried that Richard would hurt himself. Weren't you?"

"_What?_" breathed Slade in surprise, unsettled. He waved at him dismissively. "Of course not."

"Oh? Oh, you're right. How foolish of me to even think that," said Wintergreen sardonically, blinking incredulously. "You weren't worried for his welfare – _heaven forbid_."

"You're not funny, Will."

"Good, I wasn't trying to be," snipped Wintergreen, turning around and continuing his work on dinner. "There is nothing funny about beating a child."

"Then, what do you suggest I do, Will? The boy just isn't listening to me."

"Should've tanned his hide," muttered Wintergreen under his breath, venting his anger on the unsuspecting items for dinner; slamming anything he could against the countertop. Slade let out a scoffing laugh.

"I love your jokes, Will. I really do. But that has to be the worst I've heard in a long time," said Slade with a deriding chuckle, shaking his head. Wintergreen whirled around again, looking incredulous.

"Who's joking? I'm _very_ serious."

"Oh, please," said Slade. "This is ridiculous. Enough of this nonsense."

"This isn't nonsense!" protested Wintergreen in an almost pleading tone. "The child is so confused and so angry, he actually threw his clock at me in total frustration."

"He did _what?_ He threw his clock at you? How dare he – he ought to be—"

"What he does to me is _my_ problem," said Wintergreen, overriding Slade. "I'll reprimand him later for such an act, but not now. He's angry and hurt. He needs some space."

"You can't just expect me—"

"I can and I will!" snapped Wintergreen. "What he did is my problem. Enough—" Wintergreen slammed his hand against the countertop and pointed an fierce finger at Slade. "I am _done_ with this. Either you change or let him go. But I refuse to stand by and watch you hurt him like this any longer. He's unhappy, confused, frightened, angry, and just downright miserable. He's fourteen years old for crying out loud! He's shouldn't be miserable. He should be happy; content; safe. I'm dead serious, Slade – change or let him go. You're going to kill him if you keep this pace up."

Wintergreen whirled back to his work, his fury still quite evident. There was an uncomfortable stiff silence between the two of them.

"Will… You know I can't change anymore," said Slade finally in a low undertone. There was a heavy scoff from Wintergreen as he whirled back around again to face Slade.

"That's just a cop out, Slade!" snapped Wintergreen; his hazel eyes flashing dangerously. "Just because you're all—_whatever_—doesn't mean you can't change something like _beating a child_. Don't give me that crap! You most certainly _can_ change. And you better do it quickly, too; before that poor child is dead by _your_ hand."

Wintergreen turned back to the countertop; placing his hands onto the surface as he hunched over, heaving a deep sigh. Slade sighed lightly; mulling over the words that Wintergreen had spoken.

The older man was right on many levels. Slade didn't want Dick to be unhappy, but there was no helping it if the boy was decisively disobedient. How else could he discipline Dick? The boy _had_ to be punished properly for such a stupid and dangerous stunt. Slade's heart hadn't raced in palpitation at that speed in years! And no, he wasn't _worried_. He was just furious that the boy would endanger his life so foolishly. If the boy was going to continue to be disrespectful and disobedient then there was no way Slade was going to let him get away with it.

"Will," began Slade carefully. "I… appreciate your advice. But—"

"And I'd appreciate it if you considered it instead dismiss it," snapped Wintergreen, his back still to Slade. "Advice is useless on deaf ears. I'm tired of blowing hot air around here."

Slade sighed again. Well, there was no easing the old man's anger right now. It was best to leave him alone to simmer with his work. Slade turned away silently and walked slowly down the hallway. If Dick was angry then perhaps a little easy sparring would do him some good to burn off the extra energy.

Once Slade reached Dick's door, he opened it slowly. He noticed the door opened with trouble slightly. He glanced down and saw the shattered remains of the clock. So, the boy really had thrown the clock. He'd have to take care of that later. But now, it was time to calm the boy down. Slade looked back up.

Dick was lying in bed with his hands behind his head; staring up at the ceiling. His eyes flickered in Slade's direction as he entered. His face turned into a dark scowl. Slade held back a chuckle at the look on the boy's face. He really wasn't happy to see him – far from it.

"Evening, Dick," said Slade cordially.

"What do _you_ want?" growled Dick. Slade could almost see the absolute loathing drip from the boy's tone. His bright blue eyes were now darkened with pure hate.

"Coming to see how you're doing is all," said Slade; trying extremely hard not lose his temper with the insolent boy.

"I'm fine. No thanks to _you_," snarled Dick. "Now _get out_."

Slade took a very deep breath; trying hard to control his anger. It was okay. He wasn't going to lose it. The boy was angry about last night. Who wouldn't be? Slade had to let the boy's feelings slide this time or Wintergreen would be even more furious with him.

"Will is preparing dinner. How about a clean spar beforehand?" suggested Slade, trying to sound pleasant. Dick only sent him a fiercer glare.

"Do I even have a choice?"

"Not particularly, no," admitted Slade, smirking beneath his mask. He tilted his head in a bounce. "Come on, it will do you some good. We'll go easy."

Dick growled in his throat as he threw the covers off. Slade noticed that he was dressed in pajamas, but decided against telling the boy to change. Dick stood up and folded his arms, glaring at Slade.

"Since when do _you_ go easy?" accused Dick. Slade merely turned away and walked out of the room; taking all his self control to not slap the boy. Dick's mouth was getting even more sharp. Slade hoped that Dick would consider some self preservation and shut it soon. Slade wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from rounding on the boy and giving him a good hard shake.

Dick trailed after Slade as they walked down the hallway. When they reached the kitchen, Slade could tell that Wintergreen was still in a bad mood. He wordlessly opened the basement door and continued down the stairs without speaking to the old man. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he waited for Dick to follow.

"You ready?" asked Slade, once Dick reached the floor. He readied himself into a stance. Dick merely scowled and did the same. Soon, they rushed at each other. Dick was fierce with every blow. Slade lazily blocked each one. He didn't comment on the boy's insistence on not controlling his emotions. He knew that would only infuriate the boy further like it usually did. Now wasn't a time for instruction, but a time to burn of some steam.

Slade noticed as Dick intensified his attacks, trying his all to land a full blown attack on him. Slade upped his end as well, but holding back his power. He didn't want to hurt the boy tonight; not after yesterday. Slade threw a punch forward and Dick flipped backwards with his flexible acrobatic skills. Slade smiled under his mask. Those nimble acrobat moves were one of things Slade greatly admired in the boy. It made him unique in his attacking skills and style.

After awhile, a sheen of sweat glimmered on Dick's exposed skin. He was breathing heavily through the sparring. Slade lessened his power and attacks even more, not wanting to push the boy. Finally, Dick threw a wild punch towards Slade and he caught it in his hand. Easily, Slade tossed Dick over his shoulder; the boy landed with a _thump_ and low groan as he rolled onto his knees. Slade walked to him slowly. Sensing that the spar was over, he decided to question the boy.

"I heard you threw a clock at Will. Care to explain that?" said Slade casually, almost conversationally.

"Shove off, Slade," snapped Dick, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. His chest lifted up and down quickly with his heavy breathing. Slade's eye narrowed. Now that tone just would not do – at all.

"I have little patience for that, boy," said Slade; letting his tone go dark.

"Well, I have 'little patience' for _you_," snarled Dick.

"Why do you insist on being such a blasted brat?" growled Slade, reaching down and grabbing Dick by the scuff of his neck. He pulled the boy to his feet and pushed him against the wall. "I think you should mind your tone. I've been exceptionally patient with you tonight."

"Why couldn't you have been _oh so_ 'exceptionally patient' last night, huh?!" cried Dick. "I was sorry! Really and truly sorry. But you had to go and lay it into me."

"And just how was I suppose to know you were truly repentant?" demanded Slade. "You very well could've just been trying to avoid a _very _well deserved punishment."

"You didn't care to see or notice if I really meant it or not!" shouted Dick in protest. "Besides, nobody _ever_ deserves to be beaten into the dirt!"

"I beg to differ at that," smirked Slade.

"What is this, Slade?!" cried Dick hysterically, running a hand through his ungelled hair. "What do you _really_ want from me? Do you like having control over me or something? Is that it? What am I suppose to expect from you?!"

"You impudent little brat!" growled Slade, shaking Dick by the shoulders. "Don't you dare put this on me. You're the one who pulled that dangerous stunt knowing full well the consequences that would follow."

A terribly icy glare slid over Dick's brilliant blue eyes; darkness seeping through them.

"Drop dead, Slade," snarled Dick viciously. "_I hate you._"

Slade raised a hand to slap the boy, but clenched his fist in the effort to hold back. It took every fiber of his being to reel back his temper. He couldn't lose it yet. No. He had to hold back. The boy was still bitter after last night. Dick's eyes widened for a brief moment before they hardened as he saw the attack coming. But when the attack didn't come, it had the exact opposite effect that Slade would've assumed.

"Make a choice already, would you!" cried Dick, his eyes becoming wide with confusion and hurt. Slade raised an eyebrow, thoroughly perplexed by the sudden change in the boy.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Just hit me already!" screamed Dick, the words flying from his mouth quickly. "Stop holding back. Stop being nice! Yo—you're confusing me! I don't know what to expect from you anymore. First, you give me hope, and then you slam it right back into my face. There's no hope! I'm going insane!" Dick grabbed his head, shaking it slightly. "Just leave me alone already. _Please_, I'm begging you. Stop this. Stop…"

_What on earth…? What is the boy talking about – hope?_

Dick clenched his fists and lifted them, striking weakly at Slade's chest. The blows were pathetic; obviously only meant to enrage him. Slade didn't even bother to evade the boy.

"I hate you!" screamed Dick, tears flooding his eyes but not to overflowing. "Just get it over with already! You're just going to hit me again, aren't you? Well, there's nothing to hold you back – just get it over with already! I ca—I can't—handle—"

Slade sighed and lifted his hand. One slap. That's all he would do… first. The boy was going into hysterics. One slap and it would bring him back to his senses. After that, maybe a bit more. The boy was overstepping his bounds yet again with this outrageous behavior and Slade wasn't going to put up with it. Was it the stress, perhaps?

But Slade held back his hand as an angry voice flooded the room.

"Enough of this!" bellowed Wintergreen.

Dick blinked, shocked to a very, _very_ angry Wintergreen at the stairs. Dick had never seen the old man look so furious in his entire time here. It was strange, to say the least. Dick's breathing regulated as silence permeated the room; none of them willing to break it. His heart began to calm down as his brain began to register what had just happened.

He had lost it.

Completely and thoroughly lost all control over his emotions. His heart had been pumping wildly, his emotions running him ragged inside. He had been confused that Slade hadn't scolded him for his snide retorts and blatant disrespect. The man had shown him patience. That wasn't supposed to happen. Slade was suppose to slap him around angrily. But the man had held his temper the entire time.

It had caused Dick to snap. He couldn't figure the man out. What was his motive with him? Why couldn't he just choose a side? Why'd he have to flip back and forth – confuse the heck out of him? Either be nice or be mean – Dick was going to go crazy otherwise. He had just decided to be as impossible as he could with Slade, but when the man actually tried to hold back… Dick honestly didn't want to hope that Slade would be softer only for such a wish to be cruelly snatched away.

On top of it all, Dick hated himself for wanting the man to be gentle. Wasn't he suppose to be the enemy? But, a part of Dick had relented. He was tired of constantly fighting against him. There was absolutely no hope in escaping the man. But he couldn't trust Slade not to confuse him. The man wasn't safe. Dick wanted to be content with his situation – he really did. Being miserable was exhausting and just not fun at all.

But he was just so tired of being led along.

"Child," started Wintergreen, turning a firm glance at him. "Go to your room. Slade will be up to see you in a few minutes."

Dick widened his eyes, surprised by the command. He hesitated, throwing a glance at Slade. What was he suppose to do? Should he obey Wintergreen?

"But—"

"Will just gave you an order," growled Slade, his grey eye flashing darkly. "_Obey him!_"

Dick jumped at the sharp tone and hurried to the stairs, meekly walking up them. What was going to happen next? Was Slade going to come and get him later? Finish the job? Fear began to pump through his veins with every step. He wasn't sure if he could handle this anymore. If Slade didn't physically kill him first, the stress of it all would.

Wintergreen remained silent as he watched the boy walk up the stairs. It wasn't until a few moments after the door of the basement closed that he rounded on Slade with a terribly fierce glare.

"I thought I told you I wouldn't stand by you hitting that child like this anymore," said Wintergreen in an soft, icy tone.

"And I thought I made it clear to you that I need that boy to obey," retorted Slade. "How dare you usurp my authority in front of the boy. It's one thing to talk to me without him around, but another when I'm dealing with him!"

Wintergreen growled deeply.

"Blast it, Slade! Beating the child isn't going to do him any good. It's not teaching him anything but to fear you."

"He needs discipline!"

"This is no longer discipline, but abuse. I'm sick and tired of mopping the floor with his blood. A child should not _ever_ bleed!" cried Wintergreen desperately. Slade waved a hand in the air, scoffing loudly.

"And just what do you suggest then? How should I discipline him? Take away his _toys?_" demanded Slade, his tone dripping with incredulity. There was a moment a quiet as the old man didn't answer him right away. Then, Wintergreen took a deep breath.

"I know you had a soft spot for Sarah Rose, but how did you discipline Grant and Joseph?"

"I—"

Slade stopped, staring at Wintergreen with a widening eye. The old man had been serious earlier. Slade couldn't believe what he was hearing. Slade opened his mouth for a minute, unable to formulate his words. After taking a deep breath himself, he regained his voice.

"You're suggesting I do _that_ to the boy?" breathed Slade.

"Yes, I am," said Wintergreen. There was no indication that the old man was joking. There was a deep serious light in the man's aged eyes.

"_Spank_ him?" said Slade with a raised eyebrow. "Have you gone _senile?_ If beating him doesn't work, what on earth makes you think _spanking_ him will?"

"It worked for me," said Wintergreen, a wry smirk beginning to lift his wrinkled mouth. Slade stopped suddenly, staring at the old man in utter shock.

"_You_ spanked him? _When?_" demanded Slade.

"Oh, about three weeks ago," said Wintergreen pleasantly. "Remember when he first called you sir?"

"Just how did all this come about?" asked Slade, still sounding taken aback.

"He was in a bit of a bad mood that morning," explained Wintergreen, his tone overflowing with amusement. "Very belligerent and grumpy. But I understood that his situation was difficult for him. But when he called me an old man… Well, you know I don't respond pleasantly to that. I warned him; I really did."

"And… and you _spanked_ him, then?" said Slade, his eye wide with shock.

"Oh, not much. I grabbed him by the ear and just gave him one good hard swat," said Wintergreen, smiling. "Never have I seen a more embarrassed child in my entire life – but repentant. My word, he was redder than an apple. Settled him down quite a bit after that. Don't you remember?"

Slade paused as he sifted through his memories of the past few weeks. Now that he mentioned it… There had been a morning where he had been completely surprised by the boy. It had been before Slade had Dick remove his mask. Slade could still remember the boy fidgeting in his chair, his cheeks brightly flushed. The rest of the day the boy had been quite pleasant, actually.

Was that what had happened?

"I still think this is ridiculous," said Slade, shaking his head. "It's not like it'll work any better."

"Oh please, Slade. First of all, a month has passed," started Wintergreen. "Have you made _any_ progress with him using _your_ method? Any at all?"

Slade let out an annoyed sigh and shook his head once. Of course the old man _would_ point out the obvious. Such a meddling old man. Firing him just wasn't an option anymore, though, sadly.

"You've definitely made the boy afraid of you. That much is sure," said Wintergreen. "He does fear you. But he flinches around movement. He's afraid of humans now. He literally freaked out when I tried to touch him when he woke up. He hates us. He's angry at everything. And it's his strong will and pride that keeps him fighting against you, even with the threat of a beating."

"I have to break that will so I can—"

"If you break that will then you have lost yourself that valuable apprentice that you want so much," said Wintergreen, firmly overriding Slade. "Isn't it that strong will that made you desire him as an heir?"

"Of course."

"Breaking it will destroy him," argued Wintergreen. "Instead of making yourself the master, you need to establish a bond with Richard. Make him _want_ to please you. I watch the child a lot. He does want to please you at times, but you're frightening. And he's very lonely. He's used to being around people – noisy people at that. This is your chance to bond with him; if you haven't mucked it all up with that recent unfortunate _idiocy_ you call your 'discipline' technique. You need to soften up with him."

"I will_ not_ coddle him. He is—"

"He is an affection starved child," said Wintergreen, quickly overriding Slade once again. "He lost his parents at a tender age and was taken in by a man that was greatly hardened by life. I highly doubt when he was with Wayne he received much praise and affection. This is your chance to bond with him. Praise him for good behavior, punish him for bad. He is a _child_, Slade. As with all children, he needs to consistency and boundaries. You have done none of this and it's quite apparent that he is confused."

"I've made it quite clear what I expect from him!" protested Slade.

"Yes, but little infractions cause him a harsh backhand or a punch in the gut. You are too harsh. You lose your temper too often over little things. Not to mention you're inconsistent."

"So, I won't get the 'Father of the Year' award," drawled Slade. "I'm not striving for it."

"No," started Wintergreen. His tone turned to a soft, reverent murmur. "But you must ask yourself what exactly do you want from the child. Do you want a broken servant? Or do you want a loyal partner? If you change your tactic with Richard, you just might get yourself a powerfully loyal young man by your side, despite his previous feelings and morals. But, _you must make the bond!_ He cannot do it – it must be you."

There was silence between the two men as Wintergreen's words settled inside Slade's mind. He knew his friend was right. He wasn't getting anywhere with the boy. But being… gentle with the boy? How was he suppose to manage that? It had been years since he'd had any interaction with children. Would this really work?

"What am I to do, Will?" asked Slade in a soft sigh, shaking his head. "You know I lose my temper easily with him. He is just so infuriating sometimes."

"I can offer two solutions," said Wintergreen with a light smile. "The first, try counting to ten when he infuriates you. Take deep breaths as you do so. Second, you can put an earpiece into your ear so I can speak to you without the boy knowing. Then, should you have leave of your senses, I can bring you back."

Slade raised an eyebrow and smirked underneath his mask. He folded his arms and eyed Wintergreen.

"Is that so?"

"Quite. You should lay down the rules and what you expect from him. You should also, in return for his respect, swear never to beat him again."

"I can't do—"

"You must," said Wintergreen flatly. "If you don't, the boy won't trust you. Already he fears you. I bet at this very moment he is very afraid of what is to happen to him. You must promise never to beat him and you _must_ keep that promise – no matter what. It will take time to rebuild his trust. But, if you do that, I think even now he will begin to trust you again."

Slade didn't respond at first, heavily considering Wintergreen's advice. The old man was right – the boy certainly didn't trust him at all. It was completely apparent in the boy's eyes. Would promising Dick that he would never beat him again actually bring trust?

"And his discipline?"

"A simple swat for small infractions should send the message home quite well," said Wintergreen with a light smile. "And only a full spanking for extreme moments like now. And I would tell him your plan beforehand. Be completely open with him. Children appreciate it, whether they'll admit it or not."

Slade sighed, placing a hand behind his neck and rubbing his skin deeply. "I'm still not so sure about this."

"Think of it this way. Being draped over your knee like some naughty five year old will definitely deal a serious blow on the boy's pride and ego. He won't want to repeat it – _ever_. It is humiliating, yet painful; but not permanent injury," said Wintergreen. Then, a small smirk spread across his face before he added dryly, "And the best news, no cleanup for me."

Slade chuckled at that. After a moment, he sobered and in a quiet voice, spoke, "Do you really think this'll work?"

"Children are amazing creatures," said Wintergreen with a wide smile. "While infinitely different, they are all the same when it comes to simple consistency. What have you to lose if you try it?"

"Not much, I suppose," murmured Slade. After long moment, he let out a single determined breath. "All right, I'll try it."

In three long strides, he reached the stairs and began to walk up them; passing Wintergreen three stairs up. As he passed the old man, Wintergreen spoke up once more.

"Remember, he is deathly afraid of you," whispered Wintergreen. "Be firm with him, but gentle. Above all, you must be gentle and reassuring. And lastly; one more piece of advice… Leave your mask behind. You can't bond with metal."

Slade continued up the stairs without answering his friend. Now that piece of advice he didn't like. His identity had been meant to be a reward to the boy. But… By removing his mask, he did lower a barrier – one where he could become more familiar with Dick. Slade understood exactly what Wintergreen was suggesting. As usual, he was right.

You can't bond with a slab of metal.

But it still wasn't something he was quite ready to do. As he reached the basement door, he opened it slowly. He hesitated, half considering just walking to the boy's room without taking his mask off. But he held back. He understood completely the need to remove the mask. It would bring trust and they desperately needed that right now.

Well, Wintergreen was usually always right about these things. All through the years that Slade had known him, the old man had proved that much.

With a deep sigh, Slade pulled his mask off and placed it onto the kitchen table carefully. With one last glance at the two toned mask, he walked down the hallway towards Dick's room. Wintergreen was right: it was now or never to change the tide of things and Slade was dead determined to have that boy as his apprentice. If he had to adjust a little to have that desire then so be it.

He was willing to try anything.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Nineteen: A Change in Discipline – I think you get the basic idea, hm? Should be interesting…

**Author's Notes: ***smirks* Ya'll weren't expecting that, now were you? I did warn you, though. What, you thought that warning in the first chapter was for that senior moment? XD My my…

Oh, so many possibilities now, don't you think? I must remind all readers that once again, to reiterate the warning that is very present in the first chapter: **_This. NOT. Slash._ **Kay? Yay, we're all on the same page now. ^^ Excellent.

Oh, dear. I don't think Robin likes this. I might not be around tomorrow… That look that he's giving me is a bit worrisome. Oh, but my, is he blushing red as a—

…

*Robin shoots a flushing glare* "Anthy is currently unavailable at this time. Leave a message or do us all a favor and _don't_."

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Thursday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	19. A Change in Discipline

**Author's Note:** Your reviews always make me smile brightly. Can't ever stop smiling when I get reviews. It's like eating chocolate or some other delicious treat. ^-^ Thank you guys so much!

I better do these notes quick, before I get throttled by Robin for doing this to him. XD Hehe…

How do you people do this? Am I that predictable? That's chapter twenty-one, **maranda111**. XD

You've been forewarned, prepped, and now here it is. Oh, and just a little reminder – _**This. NOT. Slash.**_ Don't even bother putting that into your minds! I'm serious. This is disciplinary, _only_. Telling you right now, Dick is a child. A _child!_

Now, a little background on this chapter. This is the very first scene – along with Wintergreen demanding Slade to change his tactic – that ever came into my head. I was like, "Either I'm reading way too many disciplinary fanfics or… Well, this is definitely a new one…" I seriously had no idea how these two came to this point, but that's what sitting down and writing can do for you. ^^

In the original concept, Dick was a whole lot more frightened, timid, and perhaps beaten down from the whole experience; but I hadn't taken in account his fury from the last chapter. That sort of happened along the way while writing the Meridian chapter. So, Dick's reaction to everything evolved and I'm pleased with the effect – plus, Dick says some funny things in protest to the new plan.

Good luck, Dick!

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

**A Change in Discipline**

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 7:45 pm.**

The wait was terrible. Dick was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped nervously in his lap; his iPod nearly crushed in between them. He couldn't hold his legs still as he waited.

And waited.

Why couldn't Slade just hurry it up? Just beat the crap out of him and be done with it already. This was a whole new level of torture – the waiting, the uncertainty, the silence.

Dick was going insane.

_Why can't he just hurry up? Why did Wintergreen stop him? What was so important that it couldn't wait until after Slade battered me around?_

Dick fidgeted on the edge of his bed, his hands wringing and pulling the skin.

Hopelessness began to settle in the pit of Dick's stomach. It washed over him in a terribly powerful wave. He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard, trying to hold back his emotions. He couldn't cry. He _wouldn't_ cry. Not until after Slade was done with him. He refused to cry in front of Slade anymore. He was tired of crying – tired showing his weakness before his most hated enemy. He had cried in front of Slade twice now. No more. No matter how much pain the man inflicted on him; he would remain strong.

Before all this nonsense with Slade, Dick hadn't cried in two years. Not since he fought with Bruce and then ran away to go out on his own – prove that he was strong enough for the job of a vigilante. But, after he had arrived in Jump City, after one week had passed, he cried.

Cried for the fact that Bruce wasn't going to come after him.

No, his pride had been too strong for that – just like Dick's. So, Dick accepted it, swallowed his tears, and moved on. There was nothing else he could do. He abandoned his duel identity and fully assumed the role of Robin.

He never cried again after that.

But ever since Slade unmasked him, Dick found his emotions far more uncontrollable. Was it because Dick was far more vulnerable than the strong, powerful Robin? It was as if all the tears he had collected during the two dry years wanted to spring forth and flood everything.

He was beginning to drown in his emotions.

While the capture itself was horrible and the beatings painful, what was unbearable was the solitude. Dick was lonely – painfully, utterly lonely. The silence was terrible – although, it had gotten better ever since Slade let him have his iPod. But the human silence was weird to him. He had grown so used to Titans Tower. Cyborg and Beast Boy fighting over the TV remote, Raven demanding that they shut up, or Starfire humming happily while cooking her awful alien foods in the kitchen.

There was something always going on; never a quiet or dull moment in the Tower.

But the solitude and silence in Slade's haunt were making Dick lonely beyond anything he could have ever imagined. He missed Cyborg and Beast Boy's fighting. He missed Raven's monotone, sarcastic talking. He missed Starfire's kind and uplifting, yet backwards English.

Dick lifted his iPod up and turned it on; swiping his passcode in with his fingers. He quickly brought up his favorite photo of the group of them. Dick was in the middle as Robin with Cyborg on the right; his hand ruffling his hair. Beast Boy was sprawled at their feet on his side with a cocky smirk on his face, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. Starfire was squeezed on the other size of Robin, looking extremely happy while Raven was next to her looking bored out of her wits; although, Dick could see a slight lift of her lips in the attempt to smile.

Dick swallowed and set the iPod aside onto the bed; his lips trembling. He placed his hands back into his lap. Just looking at a single picture of his past life was enough to drown him.

Gosh, he missed them.

A tear slipped down his face.

_No. No. No._

Dick swiped the traitorous tear away.

_Not yet. Not yet._

He heard the familiar footsteps of Slade. He kept his head down and away from the door. He couldn't bear to look up into the man's face. He didn't want to see the furious anger that would undoubtedly be in his grey blue eye – the only human feature with that inhuman mask.

Besides, his eyes were probably red due to his effort to restrain his tears and he didn't want to show any more weakness to his captor. No matter how scared he was, he wouldn't let this man win. He let the rage and hatred he felt towards Slade slowly consume him. He would _not_ cry in front of that monster. He would show no weakness – but strength and defiance.

Show no weakness.

ooOOOOOoo

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 7:47 pm.**

Slade stopped outside Dick's door, taking a deep, cleansing breath. He had to remain calm during this – this was the first step into new territory. He just had to do it right.

Good grief, this felt strangely like old times.

Slade entered the room. The boy was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely tense. His head was turned away from the door, his face tilted towards the floor. Slade noticed that the boy was shaking slightly. Wintergreen was absolutely right.

Dick was terrified.

Slade didn't say anything as he walked over to the desk in the room. He grabbed the chair and placed it directly in front of Dick, sitting down into it. Their knees touched and Dick stiffened even more.

"Dick, look at me," said Slade, keeping his voice soft yet commanding. The boy bit his lower lip in his teeth and still didn't move.

"Now, Dick."

The boy flinched slightly at the tone and slowly began to lift his face. His eyes widened visibly as he looked into Slade's maskless face. Slade watched as the boy's eyes darted back and forth, taking in every contour of his face. The boy's mouth was dropping somewhat, giving Slade the strong impression of a trout. He looked completely shocked that Slade had taken off his mask and then, the confusion set in afterward.

_He's probably wondering the cause of this new turn of events. Should prove interesting…_

"Dick, this isn't working." More confusion entered Dick's brilliant blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as if to consider Slade's words. "So, we're going to do something different. You and I, we're going to make a deal with each other."

"What… what kind of deal?" asked Dick cautiously, his voice heavy with suspicion.

"I promise never to beat you again." Shock slammed into Dick's face at this. "In return, you promise to be obedient and respectful to me at all times."

Dick's eyes narrowed, the suspicion growing evermore. He glanced away, his chest lifting as he took a deep breath. He looked back at Slade, new defiance entering his features.

"What if… what if I don't?" asked Dick, his jaw locked and his chin slightly jutted outward. "Isn't that the _deal_ now?"

The boy looked so rigid. Distrust and loathing were beginning to fill his eyes as Slade watched the boy wait for his answer.

"If you are disobedient or disrespectful," continued Slade. "I have a new plan of discipline that I'm going to try with you. If you are obedient and respectful, you can expect praise and rewards. If you are disobedient or disrespectful, you can expect punishment."

"Wha—what's the punishment?"

Trying extremely hard not to smirk, Slade leaned a little closer towards Dick. He was looking forward to see what the boy's reaction would be with this. Just because Slade wasn't sure this would work, didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the reaction to the news.

"I will pull you over my knee and spank you."

Slade pulled back slightly, watching the boy carefully. There was a long moment as the words began to settle inside the boy's mind. Then, Dick's mouth opened slightly as an incredulous look flooded through his face.

"_Huuuh?!_"

"You heard me, young man," said Slade, unable to contain the small lift in his mouth. "In the event of your disobedience or disrespectfulness, you will be spanked."

"Yo—you can't…" started Dick slowly, shock mixing with the incredulity. The full realization of the implications of this seemed to hit the boy in full force. He jumped to his feet, staring down at Slade in shock and anger. "I'm fourteen for crying out loud! How many times do I have to tell you?! _I'm not a freakin` little child, Slade!_" he cried, indignation fully apparent in his tone.

"Would you rather a broken arm or a broken rib?" countered Slade with a raised eyebrow and a smirk tugging at his lips. Dick's eyes widened slightly before he averted them, biting his lower lip; then, he flopped back down onto the edge of the bed with slumped shoulders.

"Will voiced the fact that he was tired of mopping the floor with your blood," said Slade conversationally. "He was also concerned with your health."

"Wintergreen suggested this?!" cried Dick.

"That's _Mr_. Wintergreen and yes, he did indeed; and I value his advice."

"He would…" muttered Dick, his lips curling with bitterness. Slade was continually having difficulty resisting the urge to smirk.

"You should be thankful to him," added Slade as afterthought. "He just saved you from quite a few bruises, I think."

"You're acting as if you're actually _considering_ this," cried Dick in total disbelief, his eyes wide.

"I'm not just considering it. I will be doing it," said Slade. The boy started shaking his head wildly. There was a half crazed laugh that broke through the boy's lips before he spoke up, rather feverishly.

"You can't do this to me!" cried Dick, leaping to his feet again. "You—you're driving me insane! You can't–can't sp—sp—_wallop_ me! _This is ridiculous!_"

"Dick, calm down."

"You calm down, you vile, vicious, _evil_—!" snapped Dick, his voice cracking and dying off at the end as he took a gasping breath. His chest heaved sporadically as he spoke, cutting him off as his words flew. "What th—the heck do you want from me? This—this is too much. You're—I can't—This is—" Dick collapsed back onto the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. He shook his head slowly, staring at the floor with wide eyes.

Slade placed his hands on Dick's shoulders. The boy flinched violently, pulling back as he glared at him with pure loathing. He stood up, struggling uselessly against Slade's hold on him.

"Don't touch me! Let me go! Stop it—stop it – I _hate_ you! Let go—get your hands off me!" cried Dick hysterically. Slade stood as well and tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders. Not to the point of hurting him, but just enough to maintain his grasp on the thrashing boy.

"Dick, you must calm down," said Slade in an even tone.

"Stop it! _Please!_" cried Dick in a terribly pleading tone. Slade couldn't understand why the boy was getting into hysterics again. Was the boy truly that stressed over the whole situation? "This is all just a trick of yours. You're just tricking me again. You want me to like you – that's why you're saying you'll change. But you won't really. You'll end up hurting me again. You're just tricking me like you did before."

"Before?"

"The box… _The box!_ The one with my stuff. You only gave that stuff to trick me into liking you and then you… And then you…"

"Did it work?"

There was a flash of surprise that passed over Dick's eyes, before they narrowed; sending Slade a terrible icy look of pure loathing. Dick ripped out of Slade's grasp as he snarled before speaking.

"_I hate you_," growled Dick in a low voice. "I don't trust you. You might say you won't beat me, but that's just a bunch of hot air."

So, it had worked. Interesting. Slade had been surprised that the boy had come to thank him for his belongings that day. He had been doing quite good after that until he pulled that foolish explosion stunt. One simple act of kindness had lasted that long? Perhaps Wintergreen was right… A little softness did go a long way with the boy.

"If I am nothing more, I am a man of my word."

Dick scoffed elaborately. "You've done _nothing_ to prove that to me. You are a _liar_. There's no way I can trust your words."

"Then," started Slade decisively, "that trust will have to be built in time. After all, trust is easy to destroy, but takes time to build. I destroyed your trust. Now, I will do all I can to rebuild it."

Dick's eyes widened in surprise, staring at Slade as if he had never seen the man before in his life. Then, his eyes narrowed again suspiciously.

"Yeah, right. As if I can believe all that. Words again, Slade. _More freaking empty words!_"

"I promise you," said Slade. "That much I can offer you. I swear not to beat you anymore. The only bruises you'll ever attain will be through sparring. That much you can accept, yes?"

"I refuse to accept anything from _you_ anymore. I hate you," said Dick, loathing dripping in his tone. "Leave me alone. I don't care anymore. Let me go and I'll ignore you. I won't bother you ever again. The Teen Titans won't bother you. Do whatever the heck you want. Please… Just leave me alone already. _I want to go home._ You've totally screwed over my mind. I'm done trying to accept this. I'm done with you!"

Dick flopped back onto the edge of the bed; leaning forward onto his knees with his head in his hands. Slade slowly sat down as well, watching the boy carefully.

"Listen, Dick," started Slade, trying to keep his tiredness out of his voice. "We are going to restart everything. We are going to start anew."

"And this is how you do it?" snarled Dick, looking up from his hands. "You beat the crap outta of me and say '_Whoops, my bad. Let's start over.'?_ Are you _insane!?_ Did you escape from a mental institution?!"

"We are going to start over," said Slade through grounded teeth, trying very hard not to lose his temper. "You don't have a choice in this matter."

"Wow, gee. Never knew I did," drawled Dick viciously. "You know what, I'll repeat myself. Sound good? _Drop dead, Slade._"

Fierce anger rose inside Slade's chest. He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to firmly rub against the lower part of his face. He wasn't going to lose it. He couldn't lose it. He promised the boy. He had to hold his temper. But the boy surely wasn't making it easy, now was he?

Slade took another deep breath, feeling his anger rise even higher. Time to test out Wintergreen's advice. "One," he started, counting out loud in the effort to reel back the fury. "Two. Three. Fo—"

"What the heck are you—"

"_Shut up!_" snapped Slade, raising his finger in the air as he shot a fierce glare at the boy. Dick's eyes widened as he clamped his mouth shut, watching Slade warily. With another deep breath, Slade continued.

"Four. Five." Slade rubbed his face again. "Six. Seven. Eight." He took a deep breath and let it out with a long sigh. "Nine. Ten." Well, who knew: worked out pretty good. With one last deep breath, Slade squared his shoulders and sent a hard glare at the boy.

"You will speak with respect at all times. You are in enough trouble as it is. I suggest you contain yourself if you know what's good for you," said Slade.

Dick bristled visibly. "Or _what?_ You'll _beat_ me again?"

"No, but you'll find yourself in the embarrassing position of being dragged over my knees more than once," said Slade, his grey blue eye glinting roguishly.

The boy clamped his mouth shut and turned his head aside, his teeth grinding visibly as it was apparent that he was holding back a deep growl.

"Now, I will make the situation very clear," said Slade, feeling it was time to get the whole thing over and done with. "First, I will never beat you again. Whether you trust those words now, it does not matter. With time you will. Second, anytime you're rude, belligerent, or disrespectful you'll find that you've earn yourself a hard swat. Anytime you are completely disobedient or go off the deep end, like tonight – I might add, you will be thoroughly spanked. Do I make myself clear?"

Dick's chest lifted as he stared down at his hands; his eyes wide in shock and apprehension. His breathing was deeply erratic.

Dick wasn't sure what to think. Was this for real? This had to be a dream – _a nightmare_. What was the man playing at? Since when was Slade trying to change and hold back his temper? Never beat him again? What a joke. Not to mention, Dick sure as heck didn't want to be touching this man in _any _way, let alone… Dick couldn't suppress the shudder that went through his body.

No, no, no, no, _no!_

Being pulled over the knee was a reserved right of a parent and Slade _definitely_ wasn't his parent, let alone his father. Not even Bruce had claimed that right; only grounding him from going on patrol with him when Dick misbehaved. Only John Grayson had ever had that right.

Slade didn't have that right.

"You don't have that right…" murmured Dick, his thoughts rising to the surface through his mouth.

Slade raised an eyebrow, confused by the boy's comment.

'_You don't have that right.'_

Was the boy talking about as a father? Well, that would make sense. The boy certainly hated him and the discipline Slade was planning with him changed everything. Slade was about to change from being the 'master' to 'mentor' if he put it lightly. If done properly, he could form an ever further bond – the bond of a parent. Yes, what if Slade was able to form that bond? It certainly would make things easier, but it was also extremely dangerous.

The true question was, did he want to create such a bond?

Well, there was no going back now. He had promised the boy now and Slade was a man that always kept his word. It was time for a change; one, perhaps, for the better. No sense in not trying it out, anyways. There was nothing to lose now.

"Whether or not I have the right is besides the point," said Slade dismissively. He grasped Dick's wrists firmly with both of his hands and pulled the boy to his feet. "You need to learn some respect whether you like it or not. Your behavior has been atrocious since the moment you woke up and I won't stand for it anymore."

And with that, Dick found himself pulled over the man's lap. He didn't even have time to process what was happening. He couldn't believe Slade was serious about this. His eyes were wide in shock as he felt a strong arm steady him around his waist. There was no escape as a rain of hard precise slaps began to connect with his seat. Dick sucked in his breath at the sharp, stinging pain and did all he could to endure; grabbing the legs of the chair to steady himself.

How humiliating.

He was being spanked like a naughty little child – and by Slade, _of all people!_ He was never going to live this down. When—_if_ he ever managed to escape from this place, there was no way he was going to mention this to his friends. What the _heck_ could he even say?

"_Oh yeah, Slade was horrible. Beat the crap out of me during the first month. But then, he totally did a three sixty and started spanking me instead."_

Well, that was one for the record books.

No way he was _ever_ going to mention this. _Ever_. As the saying went, wild horses couldn't drag it out of him. He could just imagine the looks on Cyborg and Beast Boy's faces. They'd laugh themselves silly! Oh, and he didn't even want to _think_ about what the girls would say. Dick wondered lightly if Starfire even understood what it meant – not that he was about to bring up the topic to find out.

No amount of struggling would get him out of the man's strong hold and free from his ultimately most humiliating moment in his entire life. Not even his mother had embarrassed him this bad – and she had been pretty good at it; especially in public. So, all Dick could do was endure the moment, which was painfully turning into minutes it seemed. It was seriously beginning to feel never-ending. Was Slade ever going to stop? His seat felt like receiving end of a blowtorch. While Dick had a high pain tolerance, he could feel his eyes burning. Holding back the flow was getting harder and harder now.

There was no way that he'd outright admit that he had been completely foul to Slade and Wintergreen tonight. But after what Slade had done to him, the man had deserved it. No one deserved to be treated the way Slade had treated him. However, Dick realized he had to understand where Slade was coming from. Slade thought he was the all omnipotent adult here, and therefore thought he had to keep Dick in line. Dick had to play the man's game if he ever wanted to make it to his next birthday.

Well, it couldn't hurt to apologize.

"Slade," gasped Dick, a little surprised by his hoarse voice. The hand stopped suddenly and this encouraged Dick to finish.

"I'm sorry."

Dick couldn't stop the heavy breathing and gasping as he continued to try to stay in control over himself. Speaking made it harder to contain his emotions. He braced himself for the punishment to continue, but was pleasantly surprised when he was righted to stand in front of Slade once again. His chest heaved up and down with his breathing. He would not cry. He would _not_ cry. It didn't hurt _that _much.

Oh, who was he kidding – it hurt like fire. Seriously, was the man's hand made of iron?

Slade observed the boy in silence, his hands firmly clasped over the middle of his upper arms. The boy's eyes were glistening – not quite crying, but certainly not dry. But what interested Slade the most was the look of humility that was apparent in Dick's eyes. His mouth had the appearance of verging of a small pout, yet there was still fire and spirit.

Perfect molding materials.

"I expect you to do better from now on," said Slade in a soft tone, hoping that the boy would be receptive to it.

He was.

Dick gave a small meek nod, his eyes still wide with shock over the whole thing. Then, within the boy's eyes, there was a sudden flash of… longing? Was that it? It disappeared so quickly he couldn't be sure. Slade was momentarily perplexed at that. What was the boy waiting for? The punishment was over now. He expected the boy to want to pull away in a sulk and turn his back to him.

A memory of older times drifted through his mind.

_Ah…_

"For your behavior tonight, you are forgiven now," said Slade, testing the memory of old. A look of surprise mixed with a flash of relief swept over the boy's face. Then, it was immediately replaced with light confusion and a hint of suspicion.

Interesting.

"Go to bed early tonight. I'll have Will bring you some dinner. Get rested up. Tomorrow is a new day," said Slade, standing up. He hesitated before allowing himself to squeeze the boy's arm gently; lightly patting it afterward, before turning away and shutting the door as he exited the room.

He left a very pensive young teen behind himself.

Dick plopped onto the edge of the bed in a total stupor, hissing slightly as he landed on his extremely sore seat. He was officially confused. Yup. Totally and completely confused.

Was this on the level?

Was Slade seriously going to change now? And what was that 'you're forgiven' crap? Was he going to be all – _what the heck was this?_ – _'fatherly'_ like this from now on? Good grief, Dick wasn't sure if he could handle that. It was far easier to hate and fight against an enemy that was harsh and unpredictable.

But if Slade was going to be – what was the word…? – almost _decent_, then it was going to make it far harder to defy him. It was easier to say that Slade was a monster – a criminal that just wanted to dominate and control Dick.

But if Slade became _normal_…

What the _heck_ was Dick going to do? Why _now?_ Of all the times to change, why couldn't he have changed before beating him unconscious? There was just no way Slade had _changed_. Just no way. After all, a tiger can't change its stripes any more than a leopard can change its spots.

And another thing: Slade had actually removed his mask! That was another shock with the whole thing. He hadn't much time to consider it, though; due to the direction the conversation went.

But, Dick was very surprised by the man's appearance.

Slade had a full head of pure white hair and a goatee surrounding his mouth. Even his eyebrows were the same pure white color. He also had a black eye patch over his right eye. But the man's age looked so much younger than Dick would've assumed with the white hair. He figured the man was in his mid thirties – his face held such a youthful appearance, yet was completely masculine adult. But why had Slade removed his mask, now of all times? What was the man's motive?

Well, there was one thing Dick noticed.

He felt surprisingly calm all of the sudden. He flopped onto his side and curled his legs into his chest; slipping underneath the warm covers. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the incessant stinging he was experiencing. However, it was certainly a different type of pain than what he usually experienced when it came to the previous beatings Slade had resorted to. Somehow, he was a little thankful the man hadn't beaten him again – _not_ that he approved of the alternative.

Nonetheless, Dick refused to trust the man. There was no way the man would keep his word. This was just another thing Slade was doing to control him – now with a humiliating, juvenile technique to prove his point that Dick was a little child.

Never beat him again? _Yeah right_ – Dick wouldn't even give the man a week before he took out his fury on him again.

Although… Slade had held back his temper. In a weird way, too. Counting to ten? Dick doubted _that_ would last for long. There was just no way he could depend on normalcy from a criminal, sadistic psychopath.

It wasn't like Slade would—_could_ change…

However, no matter his racing thoughts, the hatred and anger had faded from his heart. It was still there somewhat, but only in a light simmer.

What could've caused that?

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty: Strategy of Infiltration – With no word from Batman, the Teen Titans develop a strategy to gain information on Slade.

**Author's Notes: **I have to say my favorite part is when Dick yells, "_Whoops, my bad. Let's start over._" XD It really does seem like Slade's doing that. ROTFL. Ah well, better late than never, hm, Slade?

Also, just to note: Slade's appearance is much younger than his actual age.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	20. Strategy of Infiltration

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all the reviews and support! There's never any need to be shy to drop me a review or a PM no matter what you have to say. ^.^

Guys… I drew Slade… _without a mask_. And ya'll know how I described him in the previous chapter – _not a seventy year old geezer_. *smiles* I'm not gonna lie: I'm dang proud of the picture and I think I nailed him. *shot* Here's the link with a little doctoring. XD (Confounded thing…)

alianoira dot deviantart dot com/art/Slade-Wilson-Young-Look-372743885

*scratches head* I can't for the life of me understand how being walloped is lower than being beaten to death. Seriously doesn't compute. Broken bones take weeks to heal, bruises the same. I've broken my arm before when I was a child – screamed my throat raw. Not fun. Nope.

Secret to writing… Hm, I do it a lot – _a lot_. When it flows, it pours. I know specifically where I'm going with this (much of the ending chapters are already completed – need to connect the dots, though) and I really work at my writing. You never get the first draft. I've read and reread these chapters over and over again – definitely over five (billion) times. However, my general style is to fly by the seat of my pants; lately, though, I've been growing out of that and I think it's making me a better writer.

Although, I still never write the chapters in a row. I'm all over the place. Final chapter is complete, guys. So is like three chapters before that. Heh…

Oh, I live at thesaurus dot com too. Permanent residence. XD

Oh, and I also train my autocorrect to fix my spelling as I go. Heh…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

**Strategy of Infiltration**

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 1:00 pm.**

'_Azarath, metrion, zinthos.'_

Raven repeated the incantation in her mind as she meditated. Her heart rate was constant and peaceful. Her breathing was calm and controlled. Each line of the incantation was said slowly and carefully with exactness.

'_Azarath, metrion, zinthos.'_

However, no matter how calm her body was currently, her mind would not calm down. Her thoughts raged at terrible speeds, flittering wildly throughout the cavities of her brain. No matter how much meditating she did in a day, she just could not bring her mind to stillness. It refused to be at peace.

But that's how it had been all month long. It had been a month now since the day Starfire had made everyone realize that Robin had been taken away – and most likely by Slade. Raven would've never imagined being affected like this by another person's disappearance from her life – but she was; all too much, in fact.

Had Robin truly affected her that much that she would be completely unable to control her mind and emotions at his disappearance? Was it because he had been the first to offer her the hand of friendship – something that she had never imagined that she would ever attain?

Whatever was the reason, the fact remained that she was greatly affected by Robin's disappearance and it wasn't changing any time soon.

The other Titans, however, were beginning to accept the situation. It wasn't as if they had accepted that he was gone, but they had moved on. They had to if they wanted to continue to protect the city like Robin would've wanted them to. The initial issues that the others had once had at their friend's kidnapping have slowly begun to get better.

Starfire was able to fly better now. She was returning back to her cheerful self and even attempted to bring the others up like she usually did. It was as if she was really making the effort to bring peace and happiness to everyone. She smiled more and was back to making more of those alien foods she loved so much. But Raven could sense the deep sorrow that the girl was burying inside her heart.

Beast Boy was somewhat back to his usual self; although, he had his moments of stillness where he would gaze at nothing in particular in deep thought – something that amazed Raven to no end. He seemed to have aged over the month somewhat as if he really was trying to be more mature. Although, he was once again returning to his usual self of repeating poor, yet at times, funny jokes.

The stress for Cyborg was leveling off. He worked harder than any of them to fill in the void that Robin's disappearance caused. He was really rising up to the position of being the leader and even was giving more advice to each of them. He was almost acting like a older brother even. However, there were many times that Raven could see that he was completely frustrated with the whole situation.

Not that she blamed him – she was, too. They hadn't received any word from Batman after they had contacted him. No word at all. She wished the man would, at least, give them an update; but she understood that he wasn't the type to do so.

Nonetheless, she was completely irritated by the man. She still could remember trying her hardest to maintain control while speaking to him two weeks ago in that late night call. She had felt the man's ire towards the fact that Robin had created Red X was completely unneeded at the time. She had surprised herself when she had outright lied to Batman, but she was thankful that the others hadn't argued the fact. She just had been so annoyed that her control slipped and the lie left her lips before she could stop it.

With the man's completely stern and unmoving nature, she had wondered briefly if the man had actually even cared about Robin. But when she had mentioned the possibilities of what Slade could be doing to him, she had seen it – briefly, but it had been there.

Worry.

Fear.

The man's sharp eyes had flashed a subtle sign of fear and worry for Robin, before sliding back to their usual powerful appearance. It had been then that she understood his entire demeanor was the only thing that kept the man that strong.

Still, there was no word from the man; leaving the Titans to wonder if the Dark Knight of Gotham could even find their missing leader. The team had no game plan. They had no way of knowing where to search. Slade could be anywhere and it wasn't as if he _had_ to stay in the city. Slade could've very well spirited Robin to the other side of the world.

And that was an alarming thought.

With all the trouble Raven was having with her meditating, she found herself burying her emotions more than ever so that her powers wouldn't go out of control. But she was still having great difficulty. The other knew and understood her feelings on the matter, but she would never admit it out loud – merely saying that people come and people go.

But she truly did want to rescue Robin from the clutches of Slade. While there was always a possibility, she didn't think Slade had killed Robin. Why go to the trouble with kidnapping him only to end up killing him? Slade just didn't seem like the type to just torture people for fun and then kill them off like some of the truly disturbing people that existed in the world.

Slade must've had a purpose for taking Robin away. But what was it? What was his plan? What could Slade possibly want with Robin?

There was one thing that was apparent to Raven – the fact that Robin hadn't escaped yet. That posed two possibilities. Either he wouldn't leave due to something that Slade held over him or he simply didn't have the power to escape. While it was very probable that Slade had something over Robin – the man did always seem to be one step ahead of them in everything – Raven didn't think that was the case right now. The truly frightening thought was that Robin just couldn't get away from his captor. Either he was imprisoned or Slade was too powerful.

Raven figured both. She doubted that Slade had ever shown his true abilities to them. Obviously, since they had never actually fought face to face, seeing as he usually sent out his army of robots to do his dirty work instead. That night that Robin disappeared was probably the first time he ever showed up for anything. Raven could only assume that Slade had come to collect Robin himself since their leader could definitely handle any robots Slade threw at him.

But after a month, there was still no sign of Slade or Robin.

Raven frowned at herself. Once again, she was thinking when she wasn't supposed to be. She focused harder onto her meditating.

'_Azarath, metrion, zinthos.'_

Was Robin okay? Was Slade hurting him, beating him, taunting him, torturing him? Would they ever get to see their friend again? How effected would he be from his kidnapping when—_if_ they managed to rescue him? Would he be the same person? Or would a new darkness form inside his heart from the terrible experience?

Could Robin survive through this trial?

Raven gritted her teeth, forcing those thoughts back down. She had to focus. She had to _focus!_

'_Azarath, metrion, zinthos.'_

'_Azarath, metrion, zin—'_

The sound of shattering glass made Raven pop her eyes open. A strand of her black magic was staggering into nothing after shattering her long mirror at the end of her room. The glittering shards lay on the ground.

Raven sighed, setting her feet down on the floor as she pulled out of her levitation. She wasn't going to get any more meditating done for the day; might as well do something else to take her mind off her raging thought process. She walked to her door and it slide open automatically. Her footsteps made no noise against the carpeted flooring as she walked towards the main room.

Maybe a little companionship would do her some good. She hoped there was just a little normalcy going on and no drama. She wasn't sure if she could handle more drama at the moment; something else might explode.

The main door slide open at her arrival. Raven caught a glance at the TV, which was showing an episode of Starfire's favorite program – something to do with the world of fungus. Starfire looked extremely enthralled with the program. Raven tried not to gag.

Yuck.

Beast Boy was slumped on the couch with one of his many handheld gaming devices in his hands. But his eyes were glazed over and he wasn't exactly into his game at the moment. There was a blindingly red game over sign flashing on the screen.

He was out of it.

Raven turned to look over at Cyborg, who was studying something at the main computer frame in the center of the room. He frowned for a minute and then mindlessly scratched the back of his neck, before finally rubbing his chin pensively. Raven narrowed her eyes.

Now he was up to something.

Raven wordlessly walked over to him, coming to his side quietly. He didn't notice her as she stood beside him.

"Afternoon," said Raven. Cyborg jumped visibly and looked at Raven; placing a hand over his chest as he heaved.

"Geez, Rae. You sure know how to sneak up on a guy," gasped Cyborg.

"No, you were just deep in thought," retorted Raven lightly. "What are you doing?"

Cyborg's chest rose with his deep breath as he considered the question seriously. He turned towards the computer, a heavy light entering his human eye.

"You know how Slade hired some students from the H.I.V.E. Academy awhile back? I was considering infiltrating the academy for some information on Slade," said Cyborg in a low undertone; his human eye glancing over at the other two on the couch. Raven's eyebrow rose slightly in surprise.

"That's a big ambition," commented Raven. "A dangerous one as well."

"I understand why Robin made Red X, you know. We as heroes just don't get the same information that villains can get," said Cyborg. "I'm really thinking about doing it." He frowned and added grudgingly, "Especially since I doubt we'll get any information from Batman any time soon."

"I agree with you on that. Will you make the same mistake that Robin made?" asked Raven. Cyborg shook his head with a small smile.

"Of course not. I'll need everyone's help."

"Good. Do you think it'll work? Have you thought it all out?" asked Raven.

"Trying to, at least," said Cyborg with a sigh. He motioned a hand towards Beast Boy. "He's not going to be much help in thinking up a strategy, but I plan on bringing him with me as a partner. As a fly, he can go undetected."

"Or get squished," commented Raven with a dry lilt in her voice. "You might want to consider some safety measures for him. If he's detected and has to transform, you jeopardize both his and your own safety."

Cyborg nodded solemnly.

"I was thinking about that, too. I might make a container from him to be in that can't be scannable, but that he can break out of in a transformation if the mission is compromised."

Cyborg turned back to the computer and began pulling up a number of scenarios. Raven pulled up a chair and sat down next to him to get a closer look. Raven noticed that the H.I.V.E. logo was flashing at a location on the screen.

"When did you discover the location?" asked Raven, trying not to sound impressed. Cyborg didn't look at her, but his mouth lifted into a smirk.

"Last time when Mammoth, Gizmo, and Jinx tried to pull a robbery. I landed a tracking device on Gizmo. Little pint sized punk still doesn't know what hit him."

Raven withheld a smile. Controlling her feelings was getting harder and harder lately. Her flat nature was beginning to fluctuate at the smallest things. She found herself wanting to smile more at simple things. Her anger also wanted to flare out more often as well. It was so strange – she desperately needed her meditation time to succeed. The more she felt, the more her power could get out of control. She continued to watch Cyborg as he began to show her a few scenarios.

The plans themselves were relatively simple. Cyborg would go into the academy and pose as a student. Beast Boy would go as a backup, while Raven and Starfire remain at standby in a nearby hotel in case of an emergency.

The hope was that Cyborg would be able to gain information from students that had received a contract from Slade. It was a dangerous mission, but they were willing to do anything for just a small piece of information that might lead them closer to rescuing Robin from his situation.

Anything to bring their leader and friend back home.

"What do you think?" asked Cyborg. Raven could see and feel the insecurity Cyborg was feeling about being the temporary leader of the team. She knew he needed help a lot of them time and it was almost as if she had begun to fill in the position of being an adviser to him.

"You've thought it all out," said Raven. "I think that there is always a possibility that a plan will fail, but we can't succeed nor fail if we don't try."

Cyborg smiled.

"All right, then!" cried Cyborg, excited. He alerted the other two with his exclamation and they turned their gazes over to them. Starfire shut the TV off as she looked over at them. Beast Boy looked up from his video game.

"Did something good just happen?" asked Beast Boy, as if it was possible but he was afraid that it would be fake.

"Well, it's a step in the right direction," grinned Cyborg proudly. "We're gonna infiltrate the H.I.V.E. Academy for some information on Slade. And _you_, BB—" Cyborg pointed at Beast Boy. "—are gonna be my partner."

Beast Boy's eyes lit up as he tossed his game device to the side onto the couch; bolting to his feet as he stared at his friend with wide eyes.

"Se–seriously? You're not joking, right? This isn't a joke, _right?_"

"Nope, not a joke. You're gonna help."

"_Yahoo!_" whooped Beast Boy, jumping excitedly into the air. "Go Beast Boy! Oh yeah! Who's your partner? That's right – _Beast Boy!_"

Raven turned her head and tried to hold back the combined eye roll and smirk that were tempting her face. Meditation was greatly needed. _Extremely_ needed, especially if she wanted to smile at something Beast Boy was doing.

"Glorious! Is there something that I can assist in?" asked Starfire with a happy smile of her own.

"You and Raven will be our backup in case of an emergency," said Cyborg, grinning at the bouncing green boy that was still celebrating in his happy dance. Starfire nodded determinedly.

"All right, everyone gather around. Here's the plan."

ooOOOOOoo

**October 12th, 2008. Sunday, 9:20 pm.**

Bruce Wayne leaned his head against the back of his chair, staring up at the ceiling; his thoughts shuffling through the information he had gone over for the thousandth time that week. No matter how times he went through the data that the Teen Titans had sent him, he just couldn't understand the man's motives. It had taken him a full week to uncover the fact that this same Slade that had kidnapped Dick was also the world's most deadliest mercenary, assassin; Deathstroke the Terminator.

Bruce had heard the stories revolving around the man. He was an expert in his profession. He never failed at his targets and he generally contracted with high profile citizens like CEOs, politicians, or the extremely wealthy. Most of the man's hits were within the mafia community, which almost meant that Slade had dangerous enemies. There were also times when the man did other work, like security checks or even rescues of kidnapped children of high profile families. It seemed whoever paid well enough could contract Deathstroke.

But why did he want Robin?

Bruce had no doubt that Slade knew Robin's identity as Richard Grayson by now, if not before he kidnapped him. If Dick was in his hands, there was nothing to stop the man from finding out. Dick was strong, but he was just a kid. There was only so much torture he could handle before breaking down.

Bruce's mouth went dry at that thought. He took a deep cleansing breath. No matter the information, he couldn't find anything that looked like a glimmer of a lead. It was like Slade had taken Dick and disappeared from the face of the planet.

The very moment after Bruce cut the communication off with the Teen Titans, he had gotten into a jet and flown to Jump City as fast as was possible. He had spent three days in Jump City, searching for any clues – while avoiding bringing attention to himself. He didn't need those children tagging along. Their little plan was the very reason that had brought attention to Robin in the first place.

Bruce had wanted to stay longer, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to find any traces; plus the fact, he couldn't stay away from Gotham that long without his own city becoming overrun with crime.

So, every day he was weighed down with a deep agonizing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Nothing could relieve him of it. The unknown of what could be happening to Dick was enough to eat away at his insides.

He had tried to protect the boy. But, Dick was a strong willed kid. He was going to do things his own way and there was no way Bruce could stop him. It wasn't like he was the boy's father. He might've taken him in, but there was no replacing John Grayson.

Besides, he wasn't father material.

He did keep track of Dick's movements at times – for safety reasons. Usually, he checked up on him every two weeks or so. Dick didn't know, but Bruce had hacked into their security system – with relative ease, now that he thought about it. He should've said something. If he had, maybe Dick wouldn't have been kidnapped by that assassin.

If he had done a lot of things differently, then maybe Dick would still be in Gotham at his side as his partner – safe; completely healthy and safe.

But each had made their own choices and thus, this was the outcome. There was no lamenting of the past – Bruce would only look to the future. He had to figure out the man's motives. If he could, then maybe he could find out the location where he was keeping Dick.

Bruce swiped a hand over his face. The feeling that was rising up in his chest was one he rarely, if ever, felt. It was a terrible feeling of helplessness. He was completely helpless in finding Dick. There was no trace – the man knew exactly what he was doing. It was like a waiting game, hoping that the man would do something to show off that he held the Boy Wonder in his hands.

But that was the thing.

Bruce would've assumed that Deathstroke would show off the fact that he held Batman's old protégé in his hands. Every other villain would have. What was Deathstroke's motives that he would steal away Dick without another word to the world? The man did not seem like the type just to pick him up for torture or other nefarious things.

No, Deathstroke was a man of purpose. His track record proved that much. So what, exactly, was his purpose in gaining Robin or Dick?

What did he hope to gain?

Bruce ran through a number of things and landed on a few. This could be something to do with Batman. Deathstroke could very well be trying to rile him up. But he had been in Jump City for three days. If Slade really had wanted to lure Batman out, then why hadn't he shown up?

No, Slade probably didn't want anything to do with Batman. Did he want Bruce Wayne? But if he was looking for a ransom, wouldn't have Bruce received a note by now? A month had already passed by.

So… This didn't have anything to do with him, but with Robin or Dick.

Dick was very skilled in everything that he did. Bruce had seen it inside of the kid as he trained him. He was highly intelligent and greatly advanced in his studies. Last time Bruce checked, Dick had graduated from high school already. The boy was also very nimble in his fighting techniques and knew quite a few martial art techniques. He was strong, determined, and could decipher things very well.

Had Deathstroke, perhaps, been drawn to his abilities?

Bruce sat up in his chair better, his eyes narrowing in the darkness.

Was that it? Had the man taken Robin because he admired his skills? What if…

An apprentice.

That was it. The dawning realization flooded through Bruce's mind, the confusing pieces falling into place; bringing everything to a whole new light. Slade had taken Robin because he wanted his skills and abilities. All those things that he had sent the Teen Titans' way – they had been tests. Most of the plans had been subpar with the man's intelligence. So, he had been testing Robin?

That would mean…

Bruce's blood chilled.

If that was Deathstroke's plan; if that was what Slade wanted from Dick, then that would mean he would train the boy – obviously; that's what being an apprentice meant. Slade would teach him everything he knew. The man was a mercenary, an assassin – it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he'd teach Dick.

He'd teach him how to kill.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-One: Smothered – Dick's emotions begin to overflow and the stress of his situation creates some detrimental physical effects.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	21. Smothered

**Author's Note:** You guys are awesome! ^^ Thanks a ton for all your reviews and support! ^.^

**Rosekittylol**: As per your question, from chapter 11, Robin never actually sent a transmission to Batman – he was lying. He deleted data from off Slade's computer. I thought the scene made it clear he was lying… I hope I haven't confused anyone. O.O

As for the **Guest** that asked is this story going to be a Robin/Starfire – it's not, I'm afraid. But I do ship those two, though; along with Raven/Beast Boy. But, this story isn't romance. I may do further one-shots about the two, which would be set in the _Forgotten Bonds_ world of Teen Titans. But only after finishing this. Most you'll get will be a few blushes near the end. ^^

But this story isn't about that.

As the title may suggest, this story is about a bond between Slade and Robin – _not_ a slashy one, however, as I've said multiple times before. Whatever I write in this story is completely pure and innocent in that matter between them.

What kind of other bond that'll be; well, I suppose you'll have to wait and find out. ^_^

And the good news is that the story has a very happy ending – one you're definitely not expecting, I should add. Might even make you cry; well, I can only hope, you know. I cried while writing the beginning of it. LOL (Longest 1000 words of _my life!_)

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Smothered**

**October 13th, 2008. Monday, 7:03 am.**

The next morning, Dick opened his eyes slowly. He waited for the usual wave of aches and pains he normally felt when he woke up, but found there weren't any. After all…

Dick bolted up in bed, his eyes wide as he remembered the events of last night.

The man had walloped him like a little child! Dick's face burned with mortification and embarrassment. He dropped his face into his hands; shaking his head slightly. That was _not_ cool – completely _uncool_ if ever he saw. He'd never live this down. That had to be the strangest thing yet. How could this be happening to him? He seriously must've offended some higher power that he had to be tortured like this.

But…

There weren't any bruises. There weren't any broken bones. There weren't any lasting aches and pains. Dick wiggled his seat in bed, just to test. Nope. He was perfectly fine; physically, that is – he wasn't about to say mentally he was okay. That fiery sting had long since faded overnight. He was no worse for wear.

Last night, he had fallen asleep after a few minutes of brooding on the previous event. He had woken once in the middle of the night to see a tray of food and he had eaten some of it before falling back asleep. But he had completely forgotten to set his alarm. He was a bit later than normal this morning.

Dick threw the covers off and stood up. He didn't bother getting dressed right away; walking to his door and opening it. He peeked his head through, looking for any sign of life. He could hear the usual sounds of Wintergreen in the kitchen, but there wasn't any talking.

So, maybe Slade wasn't out and about yet.

Dick walked down the hallway, holding himself nervously. His bare feet touched cool wood flooring and then tiles as he walked into the kitchen. It wasn't cold, yet he still felt the need to wrap his arms around himself. He was extremely confused over the entire matter yesterday. He felt docile and skittish, ready to bolt away at the first sign of danger.

Wintergreen was at his usual station: at the stove. Dick couldn't hold back the strong wave of betrayal that he felt as he watched him cook. This old man was the reason Slade got it into his head to wallop his backside like some bratty little kid. That was a far too childish punishment for Dick. It was invasive and also just downright embarrassing.

If Slade really was trying a different approach with him, then Dick would just rather die. Bury him right then and there – six feet under in the dirt, if you please. There was no way on the entire planet that Dick wanted to be familiar with the man. He should've thought of that a month ago. This totally screamed parenting. What was the man trying to do – _bond_ with him or something? Dick nearly shivered at the thought.

Good grief, heaven forbid.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" asked Wintergreen, turning slightly to acknowledge Dick once he saw him. Dick gave the old man a slight jerky nod, not giving him a proper greeting. He was annoyed that the old man was acting as if nothing had happened.

It irritated him. A lot.

"Why'd you tell Slade to wallop me?" demanded Dick. He refused to say the word 'spank'. That sounded something a five year old received for acting like a brat. No, thank you; he had been 'walloped'.

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow, before chuckling. "Right to the point as usual."

"Answer me," said Dick, narrowing his eyes. "Why now?"

Wintergreen frowned, turning to Dick. He took a step closer to him and Dick responded by backing up a few paces, feeling extremely vulnerable; his arms tightening around his chest.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man," said Wintergreen, putting his hands on his hips. He pointed to a chair before continuing. "Sit down if you want some answers, but don't you dare have that impertinent attitude with me."

Dick hesitated for a moment; eyeing the old man warily. Finally, with the movement of a skittish animal, Dick took a few steps to a chair; slipping into it nervously.

"I know what you're trying to do," said Dick; the words tumbling quickly from his mouth. His arms were still wrapped defensively around his chest.

"Oh?" said Wintergreen, sounding amused. "And tell me, just exactly what do you think I'm trying to do?"

"You're trying to get me to… to _bond_ with him," said Dick, saying the word as if it tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Is that right?"

"Don't play coy, old man! You know that you are!"

"You should feel very thankful you're sitting down," said Wintergreen dryly. "Although continue with this 'old man' stuff and it might not matter anymore."

Dick crossed his arms angrily. "_Sorry_," he said grudgingly. He knew the old man would make good on that threat. He had, after all, started all this nonsense.

"That's better," said Wintergreen, his eyes glinting. "Now, back to the topic at hand: you think I'm trying to get you to 'bond' with Slade. Is that right?"

Dick nodded grumpily.

"Well, let me tell you what I'm really doing," said Wintergreen with a firm fold of his arms. "I'm avoiding having to mop the floor with your blood – sometimes figuratively speaking and other times quite literally. I'm avoiding having you get terrible injuries that can only be healed with that serum. I'm tired of watching you always hurting, wincing, flinching, and afraid. This way Slade can still keep you in line, while you're left with no permanent injuries. The only _real_ blow is to your ego – which seems to have taken quite a big hit, I might add." Dick flushed at that. "I know this whole situation is hard on you; but if you insist on being so difficult, then man up and accept the consequences for your poor attitude."

"But—"

"And another thing," continued Wintergreen swiftly, his expression growing ever firmer. "If you _ever_ throw _anything_ at me again, you can expect to have quite the educational trip over _my_ knee. I might be old, but I'm no pushover. Do you understand me?"

Dick nodded sullenly, only to pacify the old man. Wintergreen seemed satisfied with it and with a sharp nod, turned away to continue his work.

Dick was completely annoyed. He held back the growl that threatened to rumble his throat. He was completely trapped – trapped with two men that felt the need to treat him like a little child instead of the competent leader he was. He was sick of it! He was fourteen years old, for crying out loud! He was too old for this kind of crap.

But the frightening thing was that he had absolutely no power to fight against them. Dick was pretty sure he could out do the old man in physical prowess, but if he crossed the old man and ran away, Slade was sure to find him; and Slade was just _not_ avoidable at all. There was no way to overpower, outsmart, or outrun the man in any way. He was stuck.

The wave of emotions were overwhelming. His feelings were in such a uproar, it was beginning to make him ill. The constant flitting back and forth – from contentment to trapped, to fragile acceptance to hatred, to confusion to yet more confusion; Dick's emotions were going wild.

Being trapped here was greatly wearing on his nerves – there was no doubt about that. He wasn't sure what to expect now. Suddenly, he had the fleeting impression that he was in a home with a stern father and grandfather – only to have it bounce back and forth with his previous thoughts; an abusive captor and a useless old man. Dick shivered at the mere thought. These men were driving him completely insane. He needed time to relax and be normal. He needed a break – seriously needed one and fast.

He needed to get away. He was trapped.

His breathing began to intensify. He was beginning to gasp for breath. His heart began to palpitate and flutter in his chest. He curled his arms around his chest as his whole body trembled; crouching low to his knees. Something was wrong; very wrong indeed. His breathing was getting worse and constricted as if he was being suffocated. Fear began to flood through him as he was unsure what was happening to him.

He needed to escape. He needed to get away. He was stuck. He was never going to get out of here. Trapped – he was trapped. Can't breathe. Confined. Alone. Scared.

Only single words and feelings flittered through Dick's mind. He gasped, suddenly unable to feel the oxygen go to his brain. There was a flood of dull sound filling his ears; blocking out all other sounds.

Strong hands clasped Dick's upper arms. Another hand gently rubbed his back. Someone was calling his name, but he couldn't hear it right away. The hand on his back felt nice, though; and Dick found himself calming down slowly. Then, he heard the frantic voice break through his hearing.

"Dick! _Breathe!_"

It was Slade's powerful voice. Dick's mind registered the commanded and tried to comply with it. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Stars popped in his eyes as the sound plug in his ears disappeared. His head began to pound with a dull sensation. Dick blinked. He slowly uncurled his arms; lifting up from his fetal position.

Slade was kneeling down in front of him, his hands firmly clasping Dick's arms. There was a look of alarm that was quickly fading into relief. Then, it melted away into an emotionless expression as if he were trying to clear himself of such things. Dick turned his head to the side to see Wintergreen hovering over him with an anxious expression throughout his aged features. The hand on Dick's back continued to rub him in a soothing motion.

"Dear child, are you all right?" asked Wintergreen finally, sounding thoroughly shaken. Dick only managed to nod slightly, glancing down at his lap. His pounding head was slowly beginning to fade. He still wasn't sure what was going on. Did something happen to him? Why couldn't he breathe all of the sudden?

Wintergreen looked down at Slade in worry. Slade, in turn, looked up at the old man.

"What happened?" asked Wintergreen, sounding extremely anxious. "He was fine merely seconds ago. I _just_ spoke to him."

"Panic attack," murmured Slade, glancing back at Dick. "That's the only explanation I have for what I was seeing. I've seen it once before when…" He trailed off and turned his full attention to Dick, who was trying very hard to breath slowly. In and out. Simple thing to do, but Dick was having trouble doing so.

_S–so… a panic attack? But… What the heck is wrong with me? I don't—breathe… Don't forget to breathe. _

_But… I can't get panic attacks. I'm Robin for crying out loud! Why is this happening to me?_

Dick felt the strong hands on his arms slide up and down slowly; rubbing his arms smoothly.

"It's going to be all right. You're going to be all right," said Slade in a low, soothing voice. Dick only nodded, his eyes wide. His brain was beginning to catch up to him. It was remembering a very important detail with all this: the man that was trying to console him was the very man that held him trapped.

Dick pulled away from Slade; pushing against the back of the chair and shaking his head in fear. Wintergreen's hand withdrew in time and rested against his neck. Dick's breathing intensified again. No, this man was the cause of this. He was the enemy. He wasn't to be trusted.

"Ge—get away from me," gasped Dick, his heart beginning to palpitate again.

"No," said Slade. He continued to speak; slowly and carefully. "Not until you calm down. You're going back into the panic attack. I'm not going anywhere until I positive you're calm."

"No, no… Stay away. You're the reason…" Dick was shaking his head more vigorously, unable to calm the fear. The pressure of being trapped again flooded throughout his body.

The strong hands tightened and lightly shook him once.

"Dick, listen to me very carefully: _you must calm down_," said Slade, emphasizing each word carefully. "Stop thinking. Breathe only. Take a deep breath—_obey me and do it now!_"

Dick sucked in his breath; startled by the sudden sharp tone. His brain obeyed – he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Again."

Dick obeyed again; taking another deep breath and letting it out. His mind was beginning to clear as he continued to breath in and out slowly. Slade stayed silent as he watched him breathe. The hand on his neck disappeared, but Slade didn't move.

Dick wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to breath calmly. But during the entire time, Slade did not stand up. The man's hands did not removed themselves from Dick's arms. He wished they would – he seriously didn't want to be near this man right now; especially after last night. But at the same time, he was somewhat thankful for the comforting warmth that came from the hands. If they just didn't belong to Slade, then Dick would've accepted the soft touch.

After awhile longer – Dick couldn't be sure how long – Slade glanced up as Wintergreen came into view. The old man handed Dick a mug, which he accepted wordlessly.

"Some hot chocolate to calm the nerves," said Wintergreen in a low undertone. Dick only nodded and brought the mug to his lips. He smelled the aroma of the rich chocolate before taking a sip. The sweet liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat, warming his insides immediately. He took a deep sigh and took another sip.

All the while, Slade did not remove his hands.

"Are you calm now?" asked Slade, after a few moments of watching Dick drink the hot chocolate. Dick slowly nodded. Slade raised an eyebrow as he studied him.

"Yes, sir," whispered Dick, hoping the man would finally go away. Luckily, that worked. Slade accepted his answer with an approving nod and stood up slowly; flexing his shoulders slightly as he did so. He looked down at Dick.

"Are you all right now?" asked Slade. Dick was unsure how to answer that. Was he all right? Of course he wasn't all right! He needed to get out of this place. He was trapped with these crazy men who were more confusing than Mad Mod's hypno-screens! Dick found himself shaking his head no to Slade's question. He wasn't sure why he was doing that, but there wasn't any way to stop it now.

Slade's eye narrowed slightly.

"What's wrong?"

Dick shook his head more frantically, not wanting to answer that. He took another sip from his mug, hoping the man wouldn't force him to talk. Slade merely sighed; accepting the mug that Wintergreen handed him. Slade pulled up a chair at the table; seating himself near Dick, but thankfully not too close.

"There's nothing wrong, Dick," said Slade in an undertone, taking a drink from his mug. "I told you last night; things are going to be different now. We're going to start with a clean slate."

Dick sucked on the edge of the glass mug, not wanting to voice anything. Everything was wrong. He'd even had a panic attack over it! He never got panic attacks. He wasn't suppose to get them – he had to remain strong. It was so strange how much stress this was putting on him, even though he didn't always feel it. It was there, though; buried deep inside until it would burst out like a volcano.

Dick closed his eyes, feeling tired. He needed something to do – something to occupy his feverish mind. Anything to just stop thinking.

"S–Slade, can we get started soon – you know; whatever you have planned for the day?" asked Dick in a low voice. Slade and Wintergreen exchanged startled looks for a brief moment, before Slade nodded.

"Yes, we'll start right after we have some breakfast."

Dick nodded in agreement as well, continuing to quietly suck on the glass of his mug. For the first time in the entire month of his capture, he was anxious to start with whatever studies that were prepared for him. Anything to clear his soul of any feelings.

ooOOOOOoo

**October 14th, 2008. Tuesday, 2:08 am.**

It was that evening, however, when the nightmare came.

Dick screamed in his sleep as the terrible images burned through his subconscious – those _awful_ images of that fateful day his parents were killed. He bolted up; sweat pouring from his skin. He shivered as the air cooled against his skin and he began to violently tremble. He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them; laying his face down into them.

It had been quite awhile since he'd had that dream. In Titans Tower, he had made sure his bedroom was sound proof to the others. He knew there would be times that he would revisit the nightmare – that terrible, awful _memory_.

He remembered everything all too well.

He could still remember the horror that poured through his small body as he watched his parents fall. And then the sound… Gosh, he'd _never_ forget that horrific sound. Then, the blood; the sign that something was so wrong, so terribly wrong. His parents weren't supposed to _bleed_. They were his parents.

But they did.

The screams and cries of others had filled his ears that day. He had tried to rush to his parents' side, but had been pulled away before he could get too close. He remember feeling angry that he would be denied being at their side. They _needed_ him after all. They were hurting. He had to go help them.

But the soft voice that whispered in his ear from the one that held him back told him that they were no longer alive. His parents were dead. They weren't coming back.

It was then that Dick had screamed.

His mother had been right: life was precious. Life was fragile. No one should take another life away. It was a terrible, terrible, _awful_ crime to take someone away in such a way; because the ones left behind had to endure their absence.

A sob racked Dick's body. The hot tears streamed down his face to soak into his pajama pants. The trembles were consuming his entire being. No matter how many tears he shed, no matter how many sobs poured from his mouth, his mother and father were just not coming back.

He was completely alone.

He was trapped with a psychopath that could do anything to him. He wasn't strong enough to escape the man. No one was going to rescue him from the man. It wasn't as if Batman really cared in the first place. If he had cared, he would've gone after Dick the first day he ran away, after all. And while Dick believed – _hoped_, at least – that his friends cared about him, he doubted they could actually find him. Slade was too powerful and too smart; a complete mastermind. He had planned it out perfectly and carefully, down to every finite detail.

A wave of hopelessness flowed over him; completely drowning him. His sobs intensified as he tightened his grip on his legs. There was no one who could save him from the pain. There was no comfort for him – no comfort that he desperately needed beyond anything in this world. The terrible longing for his mother was enough to twist and tear his heart apart.

There were footsteps outside his door suddenly. Dick stiffened; his heart quickening. His room must not be sound proof. He had woken someone up and whoever it was probably wasn't happy about it. The hallway light streamed through the cracks of his door before it opened.

Slade was standing in the doorway. He was wrapped in a dark teal bathrobe and his expression was furrowed. Dick couldn't tell what the man was feeling; the darkness in his room obstructed his face in the shadows from the hallway light.

"Dick, are you all right?" asked Slade, walking into the room.

Dick's face was freshly tear stained. He was curled up into a defensive ball. Of course he wasn't all right. He was miserable, confused, lonely, exhausted, scared – he was so many things, his mind was going crazy. The strain of being with this man was getting to him. He'd even had a panic attack over it. He was breaking down already; soon to shatter into an endless amount of pieces, never to recover again.

"I–I'm fine," squeaked Dick at higher pitch than he'd like to have done. Slade merely folded his arms and eyed him sharply with his visible eye.

He didn't seem to believe him.

Slade walked over to the chair in the room and panic settled into Dick's heart. Dick had to be in trouble now. Oh gosh, the man must be furious at being woken up in the middle of the night by screams. Of course, he'd be angry. Who'd want to be woken up by screams in the dead of night?

Dick's eyes widened nervously. The man was sitting in that chair. Dick must be in trouble, after all. The man was going to do _that_ again – Dick was sure of it.

"I'm sorry," cried Dick, his anxiousness pouring throughout his tone. "I swear, I didn't mean to scream. Please, I'm sorry."

He did _not_ want to experience the man's new form of discipline again. He didn't want _anything_ to do with him. Slade would either beat him or do _that_, but whatever it was, Dick knew it wasn't going to be pleasant for him.

"Please, don't—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. It won't happen again. I swear!"

There was a deep sigh from Slade as he shook his head. He stood up. Dick began to panic even more. The man was going to drag him – no doubt about it. Dick pushed against the wall in fear. Why did this have to happen to him? Why couldn't he be normal? Why did he have to have a panic attack? Why did he have to have a nightmare? Why couldn't he just be left alone? Why did he have to be tormented like this?!

Slade sat down on the edge of the bed; his weight sagging the mattress. He leaned forward and grabbed Dick by the wrists, pulling him forward an inch. Dick was almost in tears again. Was he going to be tortured for the rest of his life by this man? Would there be no end?

"I'm sorry. I didn't—I'm sorry," gasped Dick; shaking his head wildly, unable to stop a tear from slipping down a cheek. "_Please_—"

"Dick!" snapped Slade, overriding him. "_Calm down_."

Dick's chest heaved in his gasping breaths.

"Calm down," repeated Slade, firmly emphasizing each word. "You are _not_ in trouble."

Dick blinked; his rapid breathing subsiding as the man's words began to register in his mind.

"W–what?"

"You are not in trouble, Dick," said Slade, sounding somewhat exasperated. "Nightmares happen to everyone."

Dick bit his lip and ducked his head.

"I didn't have a nightmare," mumbled Dick.

"Is that so?" said Slade, a smirk lifting his face. "Tell me, then – you spitefully screamed in the middle of night for fun? Now for that you'd be in trouble for."

"I didn't!" cried Dick hurriedly, his head popping back up to look into Slade's face. "I _did_ have a nightmare."

Slade only smirked at him, in which Dick frowned and then scowled grumpily.

"You tricked me," said Dick, pouting slightly. Slade released his wrists and Dick immediately curled them back around his legs. Slade looked mildly bored.

"I tend to be somewhat skilled in that area," said Slade dryly. His expression turned serious as he positioned himself on the bed better; facing Dick with his knee pulled up onto the mattress.

"Dick, nightmares happen to everyone. It's part of being human," said Slade in a soft undertone. Dick's breath caught in his throat as his arms slid out their tight grip.

"Yo–you're not mad?" asked Dick. A soft expression seemed to glance through Slade's face before sliding back into his firm blank one.

"No, I am not," said Slade. "You don't have to work yourself up so much. Nightmares happen. You have no more control over them than you do over the sun rising and setting every day. Same goes for panic attacks, I might add."

At the reminder of his latest panic attack, Dick wrapped his arms around his legs again and rested his chin on his knees. There was a deep sigh that lifted through his chest.

"I must be really weak to have panic attacks and nightmares," muttered Dick in a low breath. He had whispered it so quietly, he doubted that Slade had heard.

"The strongest person I know had a panic attack," said Slade. "Panic attacks don't make you weak. As for nightmares, they happen to _everyone_."

Dick looked up at the man that was sitting on the edge of his bed. There was something different about him. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't wearing his mask; or maybe it was the fact that he was in a bathrobe; or maybe it was the soft, yet strong expression in the man's shadowed face – whatever it was, Slade seemed very different than the task master he had been over the past month.

"Even you?" breathed Dick. The question had spilled from his mouth before he could hold it back. If this man had nightmares, too, when he had to be one of the strongest men alive… Then, that really had to be something.

Slade took a deep breath and gave a single nod.

"Yes, even me."

"Really?"

"Yes, being in the army during wartime can plant some disturbing images into one's mind," said Slade. "While you sleep, you have no conscious control over your mind and body. While awake, such images no longer disturb me; however, asleep is a completely different matter."

"So… you sometimes dream about when you were on the battlefield?" asked Dick in a low whisper. Slade leaned closer to Dick.

"I have seen things one shouldn't see," whispered Slade in response. Dick held his breath. "Humans should never look like they did in war. I have woken many times in the night from dreams of such things."

Slade leaned back and Dick let out the breath that he had been holding. He looked away and bit his lip.

"But I thought you killed people," murmured Dick.

"I do, when contracted or when I have to."

"But…"

"War is purgatory," said Slade. "Death is not."

"It is for those left behind," muttered Dick.

"Now that I can agree with," said Slade flatly. Dick's eyes widened as he looked up at Slade. There was no betraying emotion in the man's face. It was completely blank; his usual impassive stance. Dick was about to open his mouth to ask who had Slade lost, but he held himself back.

He didn't want to know. He didn't want hear the man's pain, not when the man caused so much pain to Dick. He wasn't going to sympathize with him. He wasn't going to let the man manipulate his feelings and sway his heart.

There was just no way.

Dick settled his chin onto his knees; tightening his grip around his legs. He was so tired; exhausted beyond anything he could've imagined. He just wanted to sleep and ignore everything. He was sick of feeling, sick of hurting, sick of pain.

A hand rested on his shoulder for a moment; light, but firm in its weight. Dick's eyes widened as he looked up at Slade once again. The hand itself wasn't threatening. It was just there; settled with human weight and warmth.

A small calm flowed over Dick.

"Go back to sleep," said Slade. Dick only nodded; surprised and greatly unnerved by the touch. The hand squeezed for a moment before Slade stood up. He walked to the door and turned back for a moment to look at Dick. He motioned with a finger towards the wall, in the direction of the bathroom.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me," said Slade, closing the door after he spoke. The room fell into darkness; leaving Dick alone and blanketed in the shadows from the nighttime.

Dick put a hand on his shoulder; the one that Slade had placed his hand on. He could still feel the man's weight and warmth, even through the fabric of his nightshirt.

That was the second time in only a day that he had been touched by Slade in a non-threatening way. With the rubbing of his arms during his panic attack and now the hand on his shoulder; it was so strange to Dick. Slade had shown that he was capable of softness before, but it was usually overshadowed by his violence. Now, with the prospect of no violence, the man seemed even softer at times.

He was still downright scary and Dick still didn't trust the man to keep his word; but he hadn't been mad over being woken up by Dick's nightmare. In fact, he looked a little concerned – just like he had when Dick had his panic attack that day. Was he really trying to start over with Dick?

Dick slid back down so that he was lying on his back. He curled onto his side; looking into the darkness of his room. He liked it when people casually touched him – with kind innocence. It was reassuring to be touched, held, or hugged. His mother had constantly touched him, whether she caressed his cheeks randomly or cradled his chin – he had loved that.

It was one of the things he loved about the Teen Titans. The others had always been open in that way. The simple act of throwing an arm around one another, or a hand on the shoulder, or a slap on the back came naturally to them. It was something Dick hadn't experienced when he lived with Bruce and he had terribly missed the human touch he experienced from his parents. Starfire's flying hugs, or better known as glomps, were the best; although, they were very bone crushing from her powerful strength. Even Beast Boy's excitable tackle hugs were also something he loved. The mere act of being friendly with other people made Dick feel alive.

He missed all that.

Dick pulled the covers to his chin; wrapping himself in its warmth. He felt strangely a little better. Any other time, he wouldn't have been able to go back to sleep. In Titans Tower, he would've just gotten up and done some kind of work to take his mind off his nightmare.

He was exhausted, but somehow felt calmer. It felt odd taking comfort in a single touch, especially coming from the man who held him trapped against his will. But somehow, he was okay. Not perfect, but okay. Dick closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep; his dreams filled with the pleasant, happy moments he had spent with his friends.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Two: The Inhuman Human – Wintergreen, in his own odd way, blackmails Slade to spend a restful day with Dick; while Dick learns some interesting things about Slade's past.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	22. The Inhuman Human

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for always dropping me reviews! ^^ I really appreciate it and always look forward to seeing what you all have to say. ^.^

_Good grief_, this chapter is long! Largest chapter yet, my friends. Gotta love editing. ^^

**XxPhoenix FlightxX**: *giggles* Yes, I know how much you love them. ^.^ I must agree with you, too. I love the whole family thing with Slade. However, such a tale from Slade is very close to his hardened and injured heart. It'll take a little more time for him to tell that story to Dick. That'll come about, however, in chapter 31. ^_^ But I promise you, it'll be worth the wait. It's a powerful chapter.

I love to draw things out. Sorry. ROTFL! XD

I did change the dynamic of Slade's family just a bit, though. I never liked the fact that Slade had multiple relationships in canon. (And one of them… WOW, what were those writers _on?!_) Thus, in my story, he was only married to Adeline and they had three children together – Rose, included. However, I added to her name and made it Sarah Rose. You might have heard that name in chapter 18. ^^ The general tragic history with each child is similar; aka, Grant's death, Joseph's voice. Rose gets a history revamp, however. Also, ages are probably different, too. And like I said before, I made Slade probably like 20 years younger than he actually is in canon.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**The Inhuman Human**

**October 14th, 2008. Tuesday, 7:00 am.**

"Good morning," said Wintergreen as Dick walked into the kitchen the next morning. Dick nodded in reply and sat down at the table, feeling drained. He'd gotten a decent amount of sleep last night, even with the nightmare. But for some reason, he felt completely drained. He wasn't sure how he was going to get anything done today. He was just so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

These past two days had been too strange for words; from the new way Slade was dealing with him, to the panic attack, to the nightmare – it seemed as if the entire atmosphere of the entire haunt had changed completely. Plus the fact, Slade stopped wearing his mask. It was so odd to see his face; however, it did bring familiarity.

But that was something Dick was afraid to have with the man.

"How are you feeling?" asked Wintergreen, glancing over at him.

"Fine," said Dick tonelessly.

"Don't sound like it."

"Tired. Just… really tired," murmured Dick. Wintergreen studied him for a moment. He dried his hands on a washcloth before coming to stand near Dick, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dick tried not to soak up the warmth like a sponge.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I said I'm fine," repeated Dick, wishing the old man wouldn't worry over him so much.

"But?"

Dick sighed loudly, knowing there was no way around this now. The old man wanted him to talk and would coerce it out of him one way or another.

"I think I just need a break is all. It's been kind of grueling, you know," whispered Dick. He began to get momentum in his words. His tiredness loosened his tongue – not to mention that warm hand on his shoulder – and he found himself expressing his feelings a little too easily to the old man.

"It's been rough this past month. And this new… change is _really_ throwing me for a loop. Yesterday and last night… I don't know what to expect from Slade anymore. I guess I'm confused over everything. I just wish I could relax for a day or so, you know? A vacation or something." Dick sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind, sorry for rambling, sir."

Wintergreen patted Dick lightly on the back with a smile.

"It's only going to get better from here on out."

"So, I'm going back home today?" said Dick with a fake cheerful smile. It slid away immediately as he shot Wintergreen a skeptical look. "Yeah right."

"No, I just meant here."

"Yay…" drawled Dick weakly.

"Trust me," said Wintergreen with another smile. He gave Dick one last pat on the shoulder before turning away. He walked to the entrance of the hallway and took a deep breath.

"Slade, get your butt in here; _there's an emergency!_" shouted Wintergreen down the hallway. Dick's eyes snapped wide at the pronouncement; startled by the old man's sudden yelling. There was a loud noise, coupled with a door slamming open. Quick footsteps followed and Slade appeared at the entrance of the hallway, looking slightly disheveled with his white button down shirt untucked and his pure white hair askew.

"Will, what is it?" breathed Slade. He glanced at Dick, whose eyes were wide with surprise. He was shocked by Wintergreen, but he was also shocked by the way Slade appeared. Dick hadn't ever seen the man look anything but immaculate in his attire, whether it be his Kevlar suit or his daily slacks. Even last night, Slade had appeared neat and orderly in his bathrobe.

Slade ran a hand through his hair, managing to fix it somewhat.

"Excellent, you're here. Please sit down," said Wintergreen cheerfully, acting as if he hadn't just screamed bloody murder down the hallway. Slade narrowed his eye.

"Will… Did you just shout about an emergency when there really wasn't one?" breathed Slade in a terrifyingly frightening tone.

"Nonsense, this is an emergency," said Wintergreen, completely unaffected by Slade's tone; patting a chair and looking expectantly at Slade. Dick was affected, though; swallowing nervously as he watched the man glare at the older man. It was extremely weird getting used to seeing Slade without his mask on, but it gave Dick a whole new glimpse into his facial reactions.

The man was positively livid.

Slade ran a hand over his chin, sliding it over the white fur as if he was about to pull it all out. Dick could tell he was trying extremely hard to hold his temper. Dick had to give the man credit; he was doing a pretty good job at it currently. Although, he looked like he was about to blow a fuse at any moment. Dick wished Wintergreen hadn't started this with him in the room. He really didn't want to be on the receiving end of the blast when Slade blew.

"Mind informing me about it?" asked Slade, his eye glinting fiercely as he spoke in his dark, sinister tone.

"Once you sit down," said Wintergreen, patting the empty chair next to Dick again. Slade let out a harsh sigh before turning to the side slightly, commencing to tuck in his shirt into his black slacks. Once he was done, he took his seat and sent a furious glare at Wintergreen.

"All right, I'm sitting," said Slade, obviously still trying to contain his temper. "What is this emergency that required you to _screech_ like a banshee down the hallway?"

"I never screech, Slade. You know that," said Wintergreen, sounding affronted.

"Old man, I'm losing my patience," snapped Slade through gritted teeth.

"Oh my, I think there might be a problem with the laundry," said Wintergreen wryly. "Not enough _starch_."

Slade growled visibly.

"Will! Enough of your games! Out with it, already."

"All right, all right. Calm down. I'll tell you," said Wintergreen, holding up his hands. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I am calling an emergency family meeting."

Silence permeated the room.

Finally, Dick's face crinkled up in a mixture of incredulity and disgust. _A family meeting?_ Since when were they a _family?! _Had the old man finally cracked? Of all the things Dick had heard over the past month, that had to be the most ridiculous thing ever – even more than Slade getting it into his head that he could now wallop him. This took the cake; the gold medal of utter stupidity.

Seemed like Slade had the same thought process as Dick as he stared at Wintergreen as if he had gone completely insane.

"A _what?_" breathed Slade slowly, looking thoroughly taken aback.

"A family meeting," repeated Wintergreen with a nod as if this was completely obvious and normal. Slade raised his eyebrow, his eye completely wide in astonishment.

"I don't think restating that makes it any clearer to me," commented Slade with a shake of his head. He continued to stare at Wintergreen as if the old man had just grown a second head.

"I am calling a family meeting right now because I want you to cancel all of whatever you have on the schedule today."

"Is that right?" said Slade exceptionally slowly and carefully; his eye narrowing slightly. Dick just remained silent. It was far safer to keep quiet through all this. The less he said, the less chance someone would blame this new development on him.

"Yes, and we are going to do something fun and relaxing today," said Wintergreen with a firm nod. Slade's eyebrow couldn't go any higher. He shot Dick a fierce glare and jabbed a finger towards the old man.

"Did you put him up to this?" demanded Slade. Dick's eyes widened more. Panic rippled through him. Wintergreen probably _was_ doing this because of him. He shouldn't have said anything to the old man. He had opened his big mouth and now he was getting into trouble for it.

But Slade didn't need to know that.

"N–no!" cried Dick quickly. "I swear; this is all his idea!"

"Mmm…" mouthed Slade.

"Oh, don't give the child grief, Slade," chided Wintergreen with a shake of his head. "This is all my idea. Give me some credit."

"You're serious about this?" demanded Slade.

"I am."

"I see…"

Slade withdrew a cell phone from his pant pocket and began working on it. Dick's eyes widened again, surprised to see the man with a cell phone. He hadn't imagined that Slade would have something like that on his person. Then again, there was probably just as much of a chance as a mouse playing poker with a cat as Dick had at getting that cell phone; let alone having a quiet moment to dial for help.

"What are you doing?" asked Wintergreen.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm calling a psychiatrist for you!" snapped Slade. "It's like you're suggesting a _play day!_"

"I am!" insisted Wintergreen. The bottom of Slade's mouth dropped. He wordlessly lifted the phone to his ear.

"Yes, hello. Dr—"

Wintergreen grabbed the phone suddenly out of Slade's unsuspecting hand and turned off the call. He pocketed the phone and folded his arms. Dick blinked, shocked that the old man had out maneuvered Slade.

"You are going to do this whether you like it or not."

"Or what?" growled Slade, folding his own arms.

"Or your clothes will be so stiff you won't even be able to move an inch in them," threatened Wintergreen with a lifted chin, his aged eyes glinting suggestively. "You'll also find that I might be a little _clumsy_ with the salt during mealtimes and you _know_ how I feel about wasting food."

Dick glanced between the two men as they stared each other down. Dick could totally feel the dominating tension between them, radiating from their entire beings. He was fascinated that Wintergreen could stand up to Slade and that the white haired man could actually be threatened. Dick almost laughed at the threats, but he didn't dare. It seemed that Slade was taking them quite seriously.

To be honest, Dick wasn't sure what it meant to have stiff clothing.

Finally, Slade let out a low growling sigh. He leaned back in his chair and glared up at Wintergreen, his eye narrowing slightly.

"All right. What _exactly_ do you want us to do?"

"I want you and the child to spend to time together," said Wintergreen.

"We spend all day, _every_ day together," snapped Dick before he could stop himself. He widened his eyes once before ducking his head to stare at the pattern on the tablecloth.

"Yes, well," began Wintergreen with a soft smile, "I mean something that doesn't have to do with Slade's educational plans for you."

That meant…

Oh _gosh_, the old man wanted Slade and Dick to spend 'quality time' together as if they were estranged father and son – there was no doubt about that. That's what the old man had to be thinking. Dick stared at the old man as if he had lost his mind. Did he honestly think that Dick was going to agree to this? Did he honestly think that _Slade_ would?

Slade's chest heaved once in a deep breath.

"And just what, _exactly_, do you suggest? As I am _sure_ you have an idea to share, don't you?" said Slade, saying each word with slow carefulness; his grey blue eye glinting dangerously.

"Oh, can't you think of anything yourself, Slade?"

"This is _your_ brilliant idea," snapped Slade. "Why not help us out?"

"Hmm… I'll be right back then. You and the child sit tight," said Wintergreen, turning away and walking down the hallway. Slade and Dick were left in uncomfortable silence. Dick was still trying to understand what was going on. First Slade removes his mask and wallops him, and now this _bonding_ Wintergreen wanted them to do. What next? Swapping stories over a campfire? Where's the marshmallows?

"Is… Win—Mr. Wintergreen ever gonna call me by my normal name?" asked Dick, quickly amending himself midway. Slade turned his head to look at him, giving Dick a considering look.

"Probably not," said Slade dryly, a wry smirk lifting the edge of his mouth. "At least, not to your face."

Dick just gave an acknowledging nod, not really wanting to say much more. His hands began to wring themselves in his lap as he waited nervously for Wintergreen to return.

He _really_ didn't want to spend time with Slade. It was one thing to spar and be trained by him, but it was a whole other duck to spend normal downtime with him. It brought a sense of familiarity that Dick just didn't want. The past day had held plenty of that from the panic attack to the nightmare. The man wasn't safe – Dick didn't, couldn't trust him. Sure, the man was restraining himself more, but there was no comfort in his words. He might _say_ he wasn't going to beat Dick anymore, but that very well could just be a whole lot of hot air.

Dick just didn't trust Slade.

However, bitten by curiosity, Dick spoke up.

"Um… What does it mean to have stiff clothing?" asked Dick in a low undertone, feeling nervous. Slade looked at him for a moment, before his mouth curled with a smirk.

"You don't know?" asked Slade with softness, but there was a mischievous light in his eye that said otherwise. Dick merely shook his head. The smirk expanded, his eye widening with a glint. "It's pure _agony_. That's all I'll say on that. Beware of it. But honestly, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about it since Will has his own way in dealing with you, don't you think?"

Dick flushed and ducked his head. Why did he have to constantly be reminded of his position with these men? He hated being treated like a little child and it seemed like Slade was relishing in that fact.

This was getting ridiculous. Dick knew he couldn't really consider himself an adult, especially legally; but that still didn't mean that he was a little kid. He had more than proven time and time again that he could take care of himself.

He didn't need adults anymore.

It was then that Wintergreen came walking into the kitchen with a broad smile on his face, his arms full of a collection of board games and cards games. Dick couldn't hold himself back: his eyebrows rose into his ungelled bangs in pure shock at the sight.

Yup, this was the ultimate of pure torture.

Slade caught sight of the items and began to shake his head – vigorously.

"Oh, no, no, _no_, Will. Over my dead body," said Slade, glaring at the offending items.

"When should I send out the funeral invites?" asked Wintergreen in a completely serious tone; placing the collection onto the table. Slade shot him a fierce glare before shaking his head once again, still ever vigorously.

"Will, I'm serious."

"As am I, Slade. Please, just try it out for a bit," said Wintergreen, changing his serious look to one of imploring. He picked up a small red box that Dick recognized as a deck of Uno cards. Wintergreen handed it to Slade, who accepted it grudgingly and with great revulsion.

"Just try it out, please? Come on, it'll be fun."

Slade sighed bitterly and grumbled incoherent acceptances with a mixture of death threats; Dick assumed.

"Excellent!" cried Wintergreen. He stopped suddenly, a deep look of concern filling his face. "Dear me, I totally forgot I had something else to do. You two have fun without me!"

Dick swore Wintergreen left the room faster than Kid Flash could've. Slade was holding the box with disdain as he held out his another hand to the fleeing Wintergreen. He growled visibly once the old man had left, dropping his hand.

"Blasted, doddering, interfering old geezer!" snarled Slade, glaring at the box as if it was the culprit of the current events. He let out another loud, growling sigh.

"Um… with all due respect, sir," started Dick, staring at the deck of cards with distaste. "I'd rather not play Uno with you."

"The feeling is mutual, then," commented Slade in a deadpan tone, holding the deck as if he was holding something extremely dirty. He dropped the deck onto the table and stared at it with a dark look on his face. The two of them stayed in silence, each refusing to look at the other.

Dick was ready for the torture to be over. Why did the old man have to be so meddling? While he appreciated the fact that the old man had been worried over his health, he did not fully appreciate the new development. Now the old man wanted them to spend 'quality time' with each other? The man _had_ to be going senile.

There was a sudden loud sound of static that erupted into the room. Slade growled out loudly in shock, his head bolting to the side with a hand over his ear.

"Blast it, Will!" shouted Slade. "You're going to make me deaf!"

"I'm not hearing any chatting," rang Wintergreen's voice loudly as Slade reacted from the loud noise, his head bolting to the side again. Dick stared at Slade in shock. Wintergreen's voice had come from his direction. Slade looked furious as his hand hovered over his ear.

"Wha—what was that?" asked Dick.

"An earpiece," said Slade through gritted, looking livid. "Blasted old man."

"Um…"

Slade glared at Dick, his eye narrowing. "Are you _sure_ you had nothing to do with this?"

"I swear!" cried Dick.

Slade let out a grudging sigh before turning his gaze to the deck of cards. He shook his head with another frustrated sigh, picking up the deck and opening the box to pull out the cards.

"All right, remind me how to play this blasted game," said Slade, slamming the deck of cards down and pushing them forward to Dick. "You shuffle and deal. You can go first."

Dick grabbed the deck, gathering the scattered cards together and shuffling them; feeling it best to obey quickly. "You've played this before?" he asked over his shuffling.

"A few times, yes," said Slade vaguely. "You?"

"The Titans," answered Dick in a quiet voice, beginning to deal seven cards for each of them. "Who did you play with?"

Slade didn't answer as he accepted his cards, a heavy light glazing over his grey blue eye. He studied his cards, still silent. Dick didn't pressure him as he laid down his first card. As he watched the man, Dick was taken aback as he saw the familiar deep pained look that he often saw in the reflection of his own eyes. It was the look of one who buried their pain deep within their heart – it was something Dick knew and understood all too well.

It was the pain of loss.

Dick swallowed, unnerved by what he was seeing. He couldn't have imagined such a look on Slade. It was so strange to see such a human appearance in a man that he was suppose to hate and fight against. A slight shiver ran down Dick's bare arms and he rubbed a hand over one of them. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to imagine Slade being a human. He was the enemy – a criminal. Nothing more and nothing less.

But apparently, that was far from the truth.

The two of them continued to play in silence. Slade was laying his third card down when he froze suddenly. Dick watched the man stop as he was considering something. Then, his expression turned to fierce anger and slammed the card down, making Dick startle slightly. Slade grabbed at the earpiece in his ear and pulled it out, almost crushing it as he slammed it onto the table.

"Blast that old fool!" yelled Slade venomously, sending such a burning glare at the earpiece that it could've melted beneath it. Dick could only stare at Slade nervously, feeling extremely worried that the man's ire would soon be directed at him. It was, briefly. Slade turned his glare onto Dick, who stilled instantly.

"The old geezer wants us to _chat_," growled Slade as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard. "Says we need to _interact_. _Pleasantly_, of course."

"I–I see…" said Dick. "Um… What about?"

"_I don't know_," snarled Slade. "_Butterflies_, perhaps?"

"Uh…"

"Don't you dare," cut in Slade, pointing a finger at Dick. He sighed and dropped his hand. He looked away, leaning his elbow onto the table to rest his chin in his hand. Dick got the distinct impression that the man appeared extremely tired.

It was going to be a _long_ day.

"Um…" started Dick, sensing the need to at least start talking about something before Slade blew a fuse. He racked his brain for something kind of topic for them to discuss. Then, he remembered something that Wintergreen had said his first day here.

"S–so, you and Mr. Wintergreen were in the army together?"

Slade looked back at Dick, surprise flashing through his grey blue eye. He set his arm down and nodded lightly.

"We were indeed," answered Slade. Dick waited politely, wondering if Slade would elaborate on that. He played his next turn, not really caring about the game. He just needed something to occupy himself.

"I joined the army when I was just a little older than you," said Slade. His tone built in volume as he gained his momentum. Dick blinked in surprise.

"Really? That young? But I thought…"

Slade smirked. "I was sixteen. I lied about my age." His grey blue eye darkened slightly as he continued, "Home life wasn't great so I wanted out. Army was the best way to go about doing that."

"Oh…"

So, Slade had a bad family life when he was a kid? It was weird thinking of Slade being young. The man seem all powerful and all knowing. It was hard thinking that he could've ever been a normal kid. When Dick had been Robin, fighting against the criminal mastermind Slade, he always found himself forgetting that Slade was actually human as well.

Things were getting stranger by the minute.

"Wha–what happened then?" asked Dick. Slade seemed a little surprised that he was asked for more information. It wasn't that Dick was all that interested in the man's life, per se; but for lack of anything else to talk about it… If the man was willing to talk about his past, Dick was willing to listen.

Besides, there wasn't any way to convince Dick to talk about 'butterflies' with the man.

"It was 1970, near the end of the Vietnam War," said Slade. Dick frowned for a moment.

_So, he was sixteen years old in 1970… That would make him…_

"You're fifty-four years old?" cut in Dick before the man could continue; thoroughly shocked. "I thought…"

Slade smirked lightly. "What, you thought I was older?"

"N–no… I thought you were younger," said Dick, glancing his eyes downward; feeling unnerved. _A lot younger_…

Slade's single eye blinked a few times.

"No, I just look young," said Slade, a wry smirk lifting his mouth again. "Anyway, I say near the end, but really it ended a few years later. It lasted for over nineteen years as I'm sure you know. When I was a bit younger, your age, there was a huge craze over the war that continued until its end. Just about _everyone_ I knew was anti-war. Lots of teens my age spoke heavily against it."

Dick found himself leaning forward slightly, his cards forgotten. He had always found history fascinating. To hear it from someone who was directly involved was rare sometimes. He never really got to meet people that often to just sit and talk with them. People were usually only interested in him simply because he was Richard Grayson, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne.

"One of the more violent rallies happened right before I joined the army. Four people were shot down at Kent State University," said Slade. A dark light slid over his eye temporarily.

It was odd. It sounded almost as if the man didn't like the fact that people had been killed at the rally. But wasn't Slade a mercenary? An assassin? Wasn't he supposed to not be affected by the deaths of others?

"Personally, I didn't really care whether or not we were at war," said Slade with a shrug. "I merely had a desire to serve my country. Besides, the army was exciting. I was eager to experience new things. I was shipped off to Vietnam a few months after joining. I was able to distinguish myself very early and I became the military's youngest decorated soldier."

"Really?" asked Dick, his eyes wide. Well, that didn't really surprise him, considering the way the man fought now.

"Yes, really," said Slade, sounding amused. "During the war I was sent on a mission; however, it was a suicide one. Will figured it out and it was a miracle that I lived through it. Will saved my life that day and he broke his commanding officer's orders to do so. Because of Will's disobedience, his imbecilic superior sent him on a suicide mission as well later on. I was the one who figured that out and in return, I saved his life. After that, we became excellent friends and he's stuck by my side through everything since then."

It was surreal; completely surreal. Slade was sounding normal – _beyond_ normal. The man seriously sounded as if he were a veteran in the army – and he was. Dick was impressed. It was different; hearing these things from the man. It felt normal and real – Slade had lived a life, not just that of a criminal. But if the man had been in the army and had wished to serve his country, why had he changed?

"After the war," continued Slade. "I stayed in the service and was promoted to the rank of Major. I trained even more and within less than a year, I mastered every fighting form they could throw at me. It was soon after that I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel at the age of twenty-seven."

Dick dropped his cards.

"You became a Lieutenant Colonel at age twenty-seven?!" cried Dick in shock. "But that's so young! Doesn't it take like twenty years to become one?"

"Yes, well; I proved myself," said Slade. A soft light entered his grey blue eye. It seemed to cast a sadness through the man's countenance. Dick bit his lip slightly, deathly curious now. He really shouldn't allow himself to learn so much about Slade, but seriously the man was pretty amazing – Dick had to admit.

But what had changed?

"Sir…" began Dick hesitantly. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you leave the army? I mean, you're not in it now, are you?"

There was a deep low sigh that flowed from Slade.

"I didn't leave the army. They wouldn't let me back in," said Slade. "I volunteered for a military medical experiment. They were hoping to increase resistance to truth serums. It failed, though. All other subjects died from the experiment. I myself fell into a coma for over ten months."

Dick's eyes widened.

_He volunteered to be experimented on? But why would he do that? And why wouldn't they let him back in afterward? He's obviously in perfect shape._

Then, Slade's face lifted into a smirk. "I suppose there's no harm in letting you know this, but while the experiment failed to increase resistance to truth serums, it did something else."

"What did it do?" breathed Dick in question before he could stop himself.

With that wry smile ever so present on Slade's face, the man continued, "When I woke from the coma, I found that it had enhanced my abilities in my mind and body; my speed and reflexes are like none other. Interestingly enough, it also changed my blond hair to white. Plus, I have enhanced healing abilities. A deep knife wound takes mere minutes to heal."

A shocked chill slid down Dick's back. Well, no wonder the man was so impossible to defeat. _He was freaking enhanced!_

"I was not, however, allowed back to active duty because they thought my condition was _unstable_," said Slade, resentment dripping through his tone. He said the last word as if it were bitter on his lips.

Dick found himself feeling a little sorry for the man. He had offered his services and even volunteered for a dangerous experiment only to be kicked out on his rear. Some thanks that had to have been for him.

"So, what happened afterwards?"

"I think that's enough tales of old for today," said Slade, a wry smile lifting his mouth. But there was no smile showing in his eye. There was only a deep sea of sadness in that grey blue orb. So, Dick tried a different direction, not wanting to discover why there was so much pain in that unbending eye.

Or really, he was afraid to find out.

"How did you make that healing serum?" asked Dick. "Did you adjust the formula that was used on you?"

A terrible light filled Slade's steel grey blue eye, erasing the pain that was once there. That light spoke of mischief – there was no doubt about that.

"You sure you want to know?" asked Slade slyly; setting his arm on the table and leaning forward slightly. Dick didn't like the sound of that, but he figured being in the dark was worse than not knowing. So, he decided to play the man's game.

"Hit me with your best shot," smirked Dick. Slade chuckled and shook his head.

"That healing serum was created with my saliva and blood along with a mixture of other things. I created the formula from scratch. I did not use the old formula."

Dick's mouth dropped in disgust. "Your _saliva_ and _blood_ are in the serum? And you stuck that in me?!"

Slade chuckled even more. "I asked you if you were sure if you wanted to know. Should've known something was going to be weird."

"That's not just weird! That's just plain _gross!_"

"Just a bit," smirked Slade. "But it works."

"But how were you sure if the serum would work with me?" asked Dick, remembering Wintergreen's hesitancies with using it on him. "Your blood could've been rejected by mine."

"Well, I had samples of your blood from our _encounters_," said Slade with a sly smile. "I carefully crafted that serum just for you. It only works with you."

There was a long moment as Dick digested that statement.

"Wait… Wait a minute," started Dick quietly after a few moments. A feeling of terrible anger began to rise up in his chest. There was something about that statement that he just did not like. It didn't sound right. It just _didn't_ sound right at all. "What do you mean, it only works with me?"

"I created the formula for you and you only," said Slade. "It won't work on anyone else – well, it _might_; but it'll probably kill them in the end."

Dick narrowed his eyes.

"So, you're saying that you created it specifically for me."

"That is what I just said, yes."

Dick stood slowly, his newly clenched fists shaking at his sides.

"So, you _knew_ that you would beat the crap out of me," said Dick; the injured anger threatening to burst forth. "You _knew_ you'd have to beat me into submission and just wanted a little _insurance_, didn't you?"

"That's ridiculous," said Slade with a dismissive shake of his head.

"It is not!" cried Dick. "It's a legitimate reason! And it's obvious that's the reason why you made it. _You knew you'd need it_."

The anger was rising higher and higher in his chest. It felt as if his chest would explode with the fierce fire. He just couldn't understand Slade's motives anymore. He almost felt betrayed by the whole thing – which he hated that feeling the most. It was obvious the man had prepared for Dick's potential _disobedience_. One moment, the man seemed human and then in the next, Dick was slapped with the conniving criminal mastermind. He was sick of it. He was sick and tired of being shown the human side of Slade, only for it to be shattered away in his hands. He just couldn't piece together the man that Slade was.

"That's simply not true," said Slade, shaking his head again. "You're being ridiculous, Dick. You are overreacting to the facts. I keep telling you to control your emo—"

"You know what; screw you, Slade," snapped Dick, not caring that he just interrupted the man. He whirled away and marched towards the hallway, shaking in anger.

"Cross over the threshold of the hallway and you'll regret it," said Slade, his tone going dark. "Get back here, _right now_. You are _not_ to speak to me that way."

Dick hesitated; stopping suddenly. He knew it was not a good idea to make this man mad; but he was thoroughly irritated by it all. The man was such a hypocrite. He seemed all normal; but it the terrible reality, the man was just manipulative criminal. Just a plain old jerk.

And Dick wanted nothing to do with him.

Dick took a step forward, throwing away all caution. He didn't want to be forced to stay. He was done with this stupid _play day_. He didn't want to talk to the man. This was just all crap. He didn't have to take this.

"I'm warning you, Dick. Do not disobey me."

Dick whirled around furiously. "Or what, Slade?! You'll get a new reason to use that freaking healing serum on me? This is such bull! You're such a hypocrite. You say one thing, but you do another. You're such a liar. What trust? You're confusing the heck outta me!"

Slade stood up. Dick automatically took a few paces backwards. His heart rate began to rise; his fear rising with it. The man was going to hurt him again – there was no doubt about it. The man was furious; totally furious. Dick could see the rage in the man's unbending grey blue eye.

But then, Slade turned to the side for a minute; putting his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling. His chest heaved a number of times as he took a few deep breaths. The man did this for a few moments before he looked back at Dick with a firm, sharp eye. The absolute fury that had been his expression had abated slightly.

He still looked very scary, though.

Then, swiftly, Slade took two strides to him and before Dick could do anything, the man had him by the shoulders. Dick was roughly turned to the side before a hard strike whacked his backside; a familiar sharp sting following up afterward. Blinking in shock, Dick was forced back to face Slade.

"Mind your tone and your tongue," said Slade, his voice sharp and fierce. Dick could only offer a tiny nod, too overcome in shock.

"_Now_," continued Slade. "For your information, I made that serum _not_ in case I needed to heal you for your disobedience, but in case you were _injured_ on an assignment when you go on one someday. I keep telling you to control emotions. You got yourself all worked up over false information that you concocted up in that childish brain of yours."

Dick was still in shock. Slade hadn't punched in the stomach like he'd normally do. He hadn't slapped or backhanded him across the face either.

No, he had done _that_ – that _thing_ that was done to bratty little five year olds.

It was then that the heat flushed through Dick's cheeks and he quickly ducked his head as embarrassment flowed through him. He hated this feeling. He hated being so helpless against this man. Slade could do anything to him and there was just nothing he could do to stop the man.

Even when the man got it into his head that he could now do things like _this_.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" asked Slade.

Oh man, why did Slade have to do this? Why did he have to act like this? Wasn't that something a disappointed father would say after a stern reprimand? Slade was _not_ his father. He had _no_ right to do this. This was not cool – not cool at all. The man really _was_ changing. He really _was_ going to restart everything. He really was going to become _normal_.

Oh, this was just _not_ cool.

"Well?" prodded Slade.

This wasn't fair at all. Why did Dick have to swallow his pride against the man? _He_ was the criminal. _He_ was the one that had kidnapped him. Why the heck did Dick have to kowtow to this man? He wasn't doing anything wrong. He was being kept against his will. Why did he have to be treated like this?

Slade began to turn him to the side again. Dick's apprehension level rose and his mouth opened.

"I–I'm sorry!" cried Dick. He did not want the man dealing with him like this. He _hated_ this. He hated having to swallow his pride now. Slade was the one who had been in the wrong all along. There was no reason why Dick had to be respectful to this man! This just was such bull crap if Dick ever saw!

But he just couldn't win against this man.

Dick was turned back to face Slade. Luckily, Dick was spared from any other unfortunate smacks, for which he was grateful. He hated feeling like a little kid like this. It was such a horrible, helpless feeling. He wasn't sure what was worse now – feeling like a naughty little child or feeling pure terror before an abusive captor. Getting punched in the gut hurt worse than this, but at least he didn't feel that childish, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He wasn't a freaking little child, after all!

Slade curled a finger beneath Dick's chin and gently forced him to look up into his face.

"For what?" breathed Slade. Dick's eyes widened. He actually had to _think_ about it now? Oh crap. This was bad. What the heck could he say to appease this man? This was getting stranger by the second.

But that glint in Slade's eye spelled trouble if he didn't answer quickly.

"Fo–for defying you and being disrespectful," said Dick hurriedly, hoping if he threw out both that one of them would stick. He could only hope that the man would let him go. He tried to look submissive, wondering if that'd work, too.

Slade was appeased.

The hand withdrew and rubbed against Slade's face for a moment.

"The healing serum was created for your protection and not for any sinister plot that your little mind can come up with," said Slade; his hand dropping down afterwards. Slade let out a weary sigh. "This day is just not going as I thought it would."

The man looked so tired as he spoke. It confused Dick even more. But he was extremely thankful that the whole unfortunate event was over and done with. Slade acting like a firm handed… _whatever_, was completely messing with Dick's mind.

And who did they have to blame for that…?

"That's Mr. Wintergreen's fault, don't you think?" said Dick, crossing his arms.

"Mmm."

"I don't suppose you could fire him?"

"You'd probably be dead if it weren't for him," said Slade with a dry smirk.

"Oh wow, Slade. That's makes me feel _so_ much better. I can really trust you now," drawled Dick with a hint of bitterness. Slade gave a small shrug, smirking more.

"I'm just being honest with you, boy," said Slade. "You aren't exactly easy to deal with, you know. Just a bit on the difficult side."

"My parents beg to differ, _thanks_," snapped Dick, whipping his head away from Slade. It just wasn't fair. He wasn't _difficult_. That's what kids were who went to 'juvy'. Dick wasn't difficult. _Slade_ was the difficult one.

There was another sigh before Dick felt a hand on his shoulder temporarily. It squeezed once before lifting away.

"Come on. This long day isn't over and I have to no doubt Will has more conniving plans to subject us to. No doubt it'll involve playing with these _blasted_ board games."

Dick looked up and watched as the man walked over the fridge. He forced himself not to put a hand on the shoulder that had been touched by Slade. It was so strange to feel the man casually touch him in that way. Was Slade doing that more and more now? He did it yesterday and last night. Just one touch seemed to bring everything down and lessen the tension inside Dick's heart; making him forget the part that made Slade seem so frightening – reminding him that the man could be warm with human touch.

Slade opened the freezer and pulled out a box. Dick caught sight of it and raised his eyebrow at it. The box was a frozen layered chocolate cake.

"Um… What are you doing?" asked Dick.

"Getting breakfast," said Slade flatly, opening a drawer. The sound of crashing, clinking silverware lifted through the air. Slade rummaged through the drawer and withdrew a knife and two forks.

"Cake for breakfast?" said Dick, his tone drowned in disbelief.

"Not like Will fed us yet and I honestly have no patience to cook right now," said Slade, grabbed two medium plates from the cabinet. "I know he's a stickler for proper eating, as am I, but he's not around at the moment – since he _fled_ – and if we have to endure this blasted _play day_ then we might as well eat some cake."

Dick had to choke back a giggle. It was positively absurd. But there it was, Slade dishing out a heaping piece of chocolate iced cake onto a plate – twice in fact – one for Dick and for himself.

This day was just getting stranger by the second.

Thus, the rest of the day passed quickly for Dick. The two of them managed _not_ to kill each other as they went through every single game known to man that Wintergreen brought for them. If Dick let himself admit it, the day was sort of… fun and relaxing. It eased the tension in his heart.

Dick didn't notice when the old man first entered the kitchen, but the Wintergreen did and often, too. The first time had been to serve the two of them a late breakfast – after scolding the two of them for eating the cake. Dick watched as Slade merely smirked at the old man and told him, "If we have to endure this _play day_, the least you can do is _shut up_ and let us eat the _blasted_ cake."

There were other times when the old man prepared snacks for them. Overall, the day wasn't as bad as it could've been – even though there were multiple times that Slade completely trounced him in certain games. The man seriously was impossibly intelligent.

But, it wasn't too bad.

ooOOOOOoo

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**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Three: Cavorting with Fire – Slade has to deal with an extremely belligerent Dick, who fearfully and defiantly refuses to cooperate on the subject of gun education.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, Slade is a Pepperidge Farm fanboy. LOL! I must say, Wintergreen is the best. Just saying! X3

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	23. Cavorting with Fire

**Author's Note:** Thanks for always all the amazing and interesting reviews! ^.^ It's always fun to see what ya'll have to say. Thanks for reading! ^-^

Aha, I'm sorry about the later in the day update, but I will say ya'll should see the new Star Trek movie. It was awesome. ^^ Epic was really good, too. ^^

Alrighty, let the drama begin. XD This is the first part of a two chapter arch. It used to be three, interestingly enough. But ya'll know I've been doubling up my chapters so… heh.

So, I did it again. I drew Slade and Robin again. But this time, they're in the same picture and I'm totally thrilled over the entire effect. I'm finally settling into the look I prefer for Robin. Please check it out! ^-^ (Honestly, I am the only person (so far that I know) who draws Slade looking young and… handsome – I'll admit that. LOL!)

alianoira dot deviantart dot com/art/Slade-Wilson-and-Robin-Dick-Grayson-Amity- 374157379

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Cavorting with Fire**

**October 20th, 2008. Monday, 11:37 am.**

Wintergreen's interference the previous week was still irking Slade even with a full week of time passing by. _A play day?_ Whoever heard of such a ridiculous thing?! This wasn't girl scouts. The old man was seriously going senile – and he had the _gall_ to excuse himself from all the activities!

That blasted, senile, doddering, old geezer!

But… if Slade was completely honest with himself, the day had turned out pretty interesting. He hadn't been expecting the boy to open up enough to actually ask about his past. Luckily for the boy, it was a past Slade hadn't minded sharing with him. He did, however, avoid mentioning anything about meeting his wife during that time period. There was no need to mention such things.

It had been good; Slade admitted it – even with the fight. Mentally counting to ten had truly helped Slade keep his temper and the boy had turned more submissive and cooperative after that. The casual day seemed to do the boy a world of good, especially after going through so much. While Slade didn't really want to admit it; if Wintergreen hadn't forced that relaxing day on them, the boy probably would've cracked under the stress. Now he seemed back to his natural self at times. Also, Slade hadn't heard anymore screams in the night, neither had the boy shown any panic attack tendencies.

But he still seemed skittish at times and confused. He seemed worried that Slade would exact violence against him. Not that Slade could blame him; he had done quite a bit to the boy over the previous month. But Slade had thought that it would've eventually worked.

But, interestingly enough, Dick seemed more submissive this past week. He obeyed more and without question, which was surprising to Slade. He still showed fire at times when he was getting tired or irritated, but for the most part he did very well. Perhaps, the old man knew what he was talking about after all.

It seemed as if the mere threat of swatting him made the boy squirm, blush, and consent to a command like a meek little child. He had swatted the boy a few times for disrespect, only to get a startled frozen look; which quickly turned into that meek expression of a chastised child. It was really quite amusing to Slade. It also greatly pleased him. If he had known this new discipline technique would've worked this well, he would've done it since day one.

But it also confused him. Why wouldn't the threat of getting an arm broken scare the boy into submission when a simple hard swat across his backside would? A broken arm hurt far more and was lasting pain. It simply perplexed Slade to no end. He just couldn't comprehend the boy's logic and thinking.

Another thing Slade noticed, it seemed to only last a little while before the boy got his fire back. Because no matter how many times he threatened today the boy just _would not_ listen to him and thus, Slade was beginning to lose his temper with the infernal child.

Maybe it was because the education was on guns. He thought he'd start the boy off slow with it. He was currently teaching the boy at the kitchen table with an advanced technology tablet he had picked up before it was released to the public. Slade had hoped that the touch screen capabilities would make the boy more interested to learn about it, perhaps bring some interactive interest. He knew Batman's moral code was ingrained in Dick and as such would be extremely hard to break. So, Slade was giving Dick an overview of the history of guns and the different types of the weaponry.

Dick was just not receptive to it at all.

"Slade, for the _last_ time," snapped Dick finally. "_I don't_ _care_. I _refuse_ to learn this."

Slade sighed, thoroughly exhausted by this point. Two hours of calmly working with the obstinate boy was now grating on him. Slade was at his limits of patience. He knew full well beforehand that this subject would be difficult, but he hadn't realized it would be _this_ difficult.

"Dick, I've told you. This is a necessary part of your education. Now please cooperate or you will face the consequences of continual disobedience and _still_ have to do it."

Dick vigorously shook his head. Slade drew a deep breath through his nose; using all his strength to calm his temper down. He was not going to break his promise. Oh, but nothing would please him more than to slap this boy silly.

"What is this?" asked Slade, pointing to a picture of round metal cylinder – a suppressor or silencer. Dick only shook his head and looked away. Slade sucked on the roof of his mouth with his tongue as he felt the irritation rise.

"Dick, _look at the screen now!_" commanded Slade. Dick flinched at his tone, but he didn't obey.

"I hate that stuff, Slade. I refuse to learn about it," said Dick in an undertone. "I agreed to learn all that other stuff you've been teaching me only because I was saving my fight for this subject. I _will not_ learn about guns."

So, the boy figured he'd have to learn about guns. Interesting that he'd wait to put up a fight. Slade smirked. That was smart of Dick. If the boy had fought on everything little thing, Slade would've only thought the boy was just merely being belligerent and difficult about his situation. But it seemed that Dick was vehement against the subject of guns.

Slade wondered irritably if Batman had drilled it into the boy's head not to use guns. Probably did.

"This isn't up for debate, Dick," said Slade. "You will learn. You'll learn how to use one as well. I'll slowly and carefully teach you, but you _will_ learn. I'm tired of playing games with you. _Obey me_."

Dick sucked in his breath through his nose when Slade mentioned that he'll be learning how to use one. Slade noticed that the boy shuddered nervously before it passed. The boy took a deep breath and turned to fully face Slade. By the look inside the boy's crystal blue eyes, Slade knew he wasn't going to like what the boy was about to say.

"No. I won't obey you on this," said Dick. Slade raised his eyebrow. Dick was pushing his limits, now wasn't he? Well, there was nothing left to do. Normally, the boy would've suffered at least three slaps by this time. Slade had held back long enough – hadn't even given the boy any single warnings. Now he had no choice but to deal with the boy in one way.

He had promised, after all.

"Very well," said Slade. He set the tablet down and stood up. The boy stiffened slightly and did even more so when Slade grasped him by the underarm.

"What—"

"Stand up," said Slade. He remembered Wintergreen's advice, plus past days when he had been a father. He would not scare the boy into submission anymore. But this blatant disobedience would be put to a stop immediately.

The boy looked nervous as he slowly obeyed. Slade didn't give him time to think, but began to pull him down the hallway. He kept a firm grip on the boy so he couldn't pull away easily, but not too hard.

"Wh–where are we going?" asked Dick apprehensively.

"Where do you think?" said Slade in response; not looking back at the boy. There was silence, but Slade could feel the sudden weight of the boy dragging his heels into the floor. It didn't faze Slade at all.

"I told you what I'd do if you disobeyed me," said Slade. "This is the price for your disobedience, Dick."

"No, no, please stop this, Slade," begged Dick in a low murmur. "I'll do _anything_. Just don't force me to learn guns."

"I keep telling you; this isn't up for debate," said Slade, not looking back at Dick. He continued to pull the boy along, but he hadn't been expecting him to wrench fiercely out of his grip. Slade turned around to watch the boy dart back down the hallway. Slade repressed growl and snapped his fingers.

"Initiate lockdown," commanded Slade in a low murmur. There was a systematic clicking sound as all the doors in his haunt were locked.

"Slade, are you scaring that child?" came Wintergreen's voice in Slade's ear.

"No more than usual," muttered Slade under his breath, so Dick couldn't hear him.

"You need to be more patient," chided Wintergreen.

"I have been!" cried Slade in a low voice. "I haven't even reprimanded him. Blast it, I deserve a 'gold star' for restraining myself against this blasted boy; the little brat."

"Quite. I'll be sure to put that on the shopping list."

"Will, that was sarcasm."

"As was that. Remember; be gentle, but firm."

_Be gentle, but firm?_ How on earth was Slade supposed to achieve such a contradictory state?

The boy slammed into the basement door, ripping at the door handle that wouldn't open. Dick struggled with the unbending door for a moment before giving up. He darted to the other door in the kitchen that led to the main room. Slade slowly walked down the hallway after him, breathing deeply. He would remain calm. He _had_ to remain calm. He could do this – this gentle, but firm crap. Going off on the boy wasn't going to do him any good anyways.

And Slade had promised, after all.

He stopped at the entrance of the hallway and folded his arms while he watched Dick uselessly struggle against the door. The boy whirled around, his back pressed against the door and bearing the appearance of a cornered animal. He inched to the side slowly, trying to put some distance between him and Slade.

"Dick, stop this foolishness," said Slade. Dick frantically shook his head, his entire body trembling.

"No!" cried Dick, shaking his head even more. "I won't let you beat me anymore and I refuse to learn about guns."

"I told you," said Slade, trying not to grind his teeth in his irritation. _Honestly, this boy…_ "I will never beat you again."

"Of course you will!" cried Dick, his chest heaving deeply and rapidly. "I'm not obeying you, after all. Any moment you're going to hit me for this. Well, you can forget it. I'm sick of this. And you can't make me learn about guns!"

"I am not going to hit you, Dick," said Slade, trying to sound calm and reassuring. Staying in control was possible, yes indeed – Slade had to keep repeating that to himself. There was no need to get angry with Dick. That boy could stand there until doomsday, but Slade was going to maintain his control and he _would_ get this boy to obey if it was the last thing he ever did.

"Yes, you are! You're planning to beat me again!"

Those blue eyes seemed to burrow deep into Slade's own eye. There was a deep set of fear and confusion in those eyes. They were even glistening, as if at any moment the boy would break down. Slade wasn't sure what was bringing on these hysterics. There was a complete physical effect that was rippling through the boy's body at that moment.

"I am not going to beat you, boy," said Slade, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "I _am_, however, planning to spank you for this outrageous behavior."

The boy's countenance changed instantly. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed deeply. He inched along the wall.

"Don't call it that!" cried Dick.

Slade raised his eyebrow, perplexed. "What should I call it?"

"No–nothing! I'm fourteen. Yo–you can't!" cried Dick, inching even further away along the wall. Slade didn't move. There were no exits from this room now and Slade currently barred the only entrance. Dick was trapped and there was no need to go after him just yet.

"I think I've proven that I can," said Slade with a wry smirk, lifting his eyebrow. "Have I not?"

Further embarrassment and mortification flooded through the boy's face. He turned his head to the side, staring at the floor as his chest heaved up and down.

"I was walloped," whispered Dick. "Don't call it that other name. I'm not a little baby."

Oho, so that was it. The boy thought Slade's new punishment system was only for little children. He was embarrassed about it. How interesting.

"Fine," said Slade; anything to get through these hysterics. What on earth was going on with the boy? Why were his emotions so out of control?

"However, I disagree," continued Slade. "You are acting like a little baby. You've worked yourself up and have been blatantly disobedient, not to mention beyond belligerent. I've told you before I won't beat you anymore, but nonetheless I need some way of keeping you under control – which is becoming more and more apparent that you _need_ to be kept under control."

Dick flushed even more and folded his arms.

"I just can't learn about guns, okay?" whispered Dick. "I'll do anything else, please. I'll–I'll go steal something or whatever you want. Just don't make me learn how to use a gun. Anything,_ please_…"

Slade was momentarily startled. He'd actually _steal?_ Well, that was something. The boy was that afraid of guns that he would actually _offer_ to steal? Now that was very interesting. But confusing even more. Slade just couldn't figure the boy out. What on earth caused him to reach such a point?

"I'm telling you to obey me," said Slade, turning his tone sharp. "Stop this nonsense."

"Please, Slade. Look, please… Just don't beat me over this," pleaded Dick, his eyes glistening even more. "I know you're getting mad, but please don't. Just understand. I'll do anything else – _anything_ you want. Just not guns. I'm—I'm… I'm begging you – anything but that."

The boy was near verging on a complete break down. Slade held back a sigh. Honestly, he couldn't exactly expect the boy to trust that he wouldn't strike him anymore, but he had hoped that the boy would realize he meant his words. Slade was telling him to his face he wasn't going to beat him. How hard could it be to understand that?

"You have no choice in your education – I've told you that," said Slade.

"I should, though!" cried Dick. "I'll do anything, but not guns. Anything but that!"

"Does a four year old get to choose to learn his ABCs? No, of course not," said Slade.

"This isn't required learning!" protested Dick.

"It is in _my_ school of education. I've told you, Dick – you have no choice," said Slade, his tone rising with his irritation. "However, I'll give you one last chance. The choice you do have is whether or not you learn it with a smarting seat. If you choose to apologize for this behavior and sit back down, I'll forget the whole thing. However, you continue to defy me, we'll continue this discussion in your room where you'll be punished. I'm at my limit now. Make your choice."

There was a quiet moment as the two of them stared each other down. There were a few long moments where Dick's chest heaved up and down with his heavy breathing. Slade could from where he was standing that the boy was trembling. Then, Dick took another deep heavy sigh; a hard light entering his eyes. The trembling seemed to cease.

"I won't learn how to use guns no matter how many times you hit me," said Dick, finally breaking the silence.

It was different than his usual defiance. Slade could see absolute fear in the boy's bright eyes, but it wasn't fear of punishment – it was the fear of guns itself. Had Batman been so determined to keep the boy away from them that he instilled a sense of fear over them in the boy?

"I see," answered Slade. He took a step into the kitchen. The boy tensed and inched away quickly until he hit the corner of the wall. Slade really didn't want to chase the boy down, especially since he might injure him; but he had to get a hold on Dick. Slade was done with this now.

Slade took another step into the kitchen. Dick looked like a cornered animal that was watching carefully which side of the table Slade would go around. So, Slade expertly pushed the table to the side with ease; clearing the pathway to Dick directly. A terrible flash of fear flooded through the boy's face. His lips began to tremble as he tried to burrow himself into the corner of the wall. Slade walked slowly to him. This was truly getting ridiculous.

Finally, Slade reached the boy; standing two feet in front of him. Dick squeezed his eyes shut as if expecting a blow. Slade gently clasped his hand on Dick's arm and began to firmly pull him away from the corner.

"Wh—what are you doing?" cried Dick in a soft voice.

"I told you – _weren't you listening to me?_ – we are going to your room," said Slade, thoroughly exasperated now; pulling Dick towards the entrance of the hallway. "You've made your choice. You will be punished for this disobedience."

No amount of dragging of his feet kept Slade from keeping his steady pace. He snapped his fingers again to disable the lockdown. Once he reached Dick's bedroom, he opened the door and walked inside; straight towards the desk chair. He pulled it out with his free hand and sat down. He forced the boy to face him; placing a strong hand on each of the boy's arms.

Dick's eyes were widened with fear, anticipation, and embarrassment – which was added to effect with the pink flush that was beginning to appear on his cheeks.

"Please don't do this," begged Dick in a low desperate whisper. His lips began to tremble.

"You made your choice, Dick," said Slade, hoping to make it very clear that the boy brought this onto himself. "I did give you a choice, a chance to decide. You choose to disobey and thus this is the price for such disobedience."

"_Please… anything but this_," pleaded Dick in a low cry. "I'll do anything. _Please… anything _but guns_…_"

Slade couldn't believe the amount of hysterics that was going on over this subject. He hadn't imagined Dick would be like this. Slade had assumed to come across difficulty, perhaps even extreme willfulness. But not this pleading hysterics that was coming riddled with a deep underlining fear. Slade couldn't understand it and, for a brief moment, was almost swayed by it.

But this behavior of defiance was just not going to fly – Slade couldn't allow it.

"Blatant disobedience is unacceptable," said Slade. "I've told you that before."

Thus, he commenced his purpose in coming to the boy's room.

He'd felt that all such punishment should be dealt within the boy's room. He wanted to clear the uncertainty that had been created before. When the boy saw that he was being taken to his room, then he could understand what was to happen next. It had been a technique that Slade had developed with his own boys.

A few minutes later, Slade righted the boy after he was through with him. The boy's chest was heaving with his ragged breathing; obviously trying extremely hard to control himself from crying. His eyes were glistening somewhat, but they weren't tearing yet. He bore the punishment very well. Slade gently pushed the boy backwards so that he was forced to sit down on the edge of his bed. Dick winced as he did so.

Slade noticed that the boy didn't apologize this time. Obviously, the boy didn't think he did anything wrong. Slade pulled the chair close to the boy so they could talk face to face.

"Dick, we'll resume the gun studies another time," said Slade in a soft voice. He could tell the boy was clearly fearful over the subject. Honestly, Slade had grown tired of battling the boy all morning over it. This had been a complete ordeal. Dealing with this child was truly the most exhausting thing Slade had ever encountered.

"I won't," said Dick flatly, his voice cracking lightly and his breathing erratic.

"You will or we'll do this every time until you get it through your head," said Slade, wishing this boy's obstinacy would cease at once.

"Just stop it…" murmured Dick; his breathing shuddering once.

"What?"

"Just stop it!" shouted Dick, swiping a hand over his moist eyes. "Stop trying to act like a father now!"

Slade raised an eyebrow, surprised by the boy's words.

"What are you talking about?"

"This! All this!" cried Dick hysterically, gesturing his arms wildly at Slade.

Slade frowned. He just couldn't understand what was wrong now. Of course, the boy just had his backside thoroughly warmed. No boy was pleasant right after being disciplined. But the boy's emotions were returning to their spastic nature once again.

"Explain, Dick."

"You! You've stopped being Slade!"

Slade opened his mouth; unable to find anything to say to that. Now that was the oddest thing he heard yet. Slade stopped being Slade? That was a definitely a new one.

"I assure you, I am quite the same," said Slade with a wry smile.

"No, you're not!" protested Dick. "You're all in control now. Before you always went off on me. Now you're trying to be like a calm… ca–calm—pa–parent! Just stop it! I don't need that! And I especially don't need it from _you!_"

"Dick—"

"I don't get this!" cried Dick, his chest heaving deeply as his breathing quickened. "Why are you so calm? Why haven't you punched me? Slapped me? Or shouted at me? I don't understand—I don't—Why—so confused—"

Slade put a hand on Dick's shoulder, trying to stop him from going into more hysterics. Instantly, the boy stiffened. But, a moment later, he seemed to almost melt beneath it. His breathing began to regulate. The boy took deep calming breaths, his entire body stilling beneath Slade's hand. Slade was perplexed by the reaction. Then, Dick tried to shrug off the touch.

"Don't touch me," said Dick quietly, his expression looking unhappy and uncomfortable. But Slade didn't listen; keeping his hand on his shoulder. He studied the boy carefully.

The boy had calmed – almost instantly – over a simple non-threatening touch. Verbally, he didn't like it. But it was fully obvious that it was having a positive effect on the boy.

Dawning realization began to pour through Slade. It was perfectly apparent that Dick had father issues. He always reacted badly to the mere thought of Slade being like a father to him. But he obviously yearned for it – he reacted positively to moments that felt like a father and son moment.

The boy really wanted a father.

Not only that, his entire soul craved, needed, begged for one.

But he didn't want Slade to fulfill that role – not surprising. Slade hadn't shown anything of that sort during the previous month. The wheels of cunning began to turn inside Slade's head. What if he _did_ fulfill that role? The boy would be more receptive to everything Slade told him; perhaps even become eager to please.

A wave of regret flooded through Slade, which surprised him. He never felt regret anymore about anything in his life – only in the case of his family. But at that moment, he regretted how he first dealt with the boy. If only he had known what the boy had wanted… Think of the progress they could've made if he hasn't wasted the time trying to break the boy instead of swaying him towards Slade.

But what was done was done. There was no changing it. Slade could only change the present. Luckily, Wintergreen advised him when he did. Slade was thoroughly grateful that the old man was such a loyal friend to him.

Slade wasn't sure, though, how to proceed with the boy. While he knew the outcome he wanted with the boy, he wasn't sure how to go about it. It had been over eight years since he had anything to do with children of his own. Eight years did a lot to clear one's memory of painful things.

"Dick, listen to me," said Slade carefully; still unsure what to say to the boy. Dick didn't respond in any way, so Slade placed a second hand on the boy's other shoulder.

It had an effect.

Dick seemed to crumple under the touch. Slade could see a mixture of emotions running through the boy's face. Slade hesitated. What could he say to the boy that would help change his complete worry? What could Slade say that would make the boy put his complete trust into him?

Slade wanted this boy's power, strength, and skills for his perfect apprentice and eventual heir. This boy was perfect. Dick was perfect. But, breaking the boy wasn't going to work – that much was obvious. The boy would either go into a fit of rage or go into hysterics. The stress was too much for him.

So, what could Slade do?

"What I did to you before," started Slade, as the words slowly began to form in his mind and fall from his lips. "Was not something I should've done. I should've been like this with you from the beginning. For that, I… apologize."

Shock hit the boy like a ten ton truck.

It hit Slade, too – he was surprised at himself that he would stoop to apologizing to the boy. Would the boy believe it? It wasn't that it was a full out lie – Slade _did_ regret the way he dealt with the boy, but only because it hadn't worked and not because he felt remorseful about it.

As the shock began to fade from Dick's face, a new expression began to fill it. His face was laced with confusion and study, as if he was seeing Slade in a new light.

"We will continue to get along better, Dick," said Slade. "Remember I swore never to beat you again and I'm a man of my word. You have no need to fear me anymore." A smirk lifted his mouth. "Well, for your comfort, I do suggest a healthy amount of respect and obedience."

Dick only nodded at that.

ooOOOOOoo

**October 20th, 2008. Monday, 1:00 pm.**

Slade was exhausted.

Not physically, of course. He rarely was ever pushed to that extreme. But somehow, his entire being felt tired, exhausted to his limits. And what was the cause of such a drain on Slade? The boy, of course. Slade couldn't ever remember dealing with such an emotional, infuriating, hysterical, difficult child in all his life. None of his previous children ever made him feel at his wits end.

Although…

There were times when his eldest, Grant, had fought against him on certain things. He had been hot headed and would always clash with Slade. But somehow, even though the fights, Slade had been the closest with him out of all his children. Sarah Rose, or just Rose to the family, had been a feisty little thing. Slade never knew how to deal with her; always sending the little girl to her mother when she was in trouble. She had been young, not to mention a girl; but she had been his little princess – it had been all too easy to steal his heart. Joseph, or Joey to the family; well, that boy had never gotten into trouble on his own and when he did, Grant hadn't been too far behind him. Joey was too much of a soft spoken boy to really be any trouble.

But Dick…

True, the circumstances were very different. There was no trust between them. Dick was fearful of him – extremely so. Slade was Dick's captor, if he put it realistically. Even before that, they had been arch enemies. There was no way Dick would just trust him so easily – especially after the way he had been treated during the previous month. Slade had been trying to instill respect and fear into the boy.

But it obviously backfired on him.

Now Slade had to rebuild his… failure, if he put it honestly. He despised admitting when he was wrong or had failed. But, Slade would not consider this a failure, but a new beginning. He would rebuild the relationship between them if it was the last thing he ever did.

And it was beginning to almost seem that way to Slade – at times, at least.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Dick didn't say much except to answer anything that was sent his way and Slade didn't feel like pushing the boy – not after what had happened. Dick still looked very tentative and skittish over learning anything. Slade decided that it was best to let the boy have a free hour at the moment to settle down.

Besides, Slade could use a break himself.

He was sitting in his computer chair in his bedroom, heavily thinking of the matter. There was something more here than just pure defiance against guns. The boy honestly seemed very afraid of them. The way the light flickered in Dick's eyes showed that very well. But Slade just couldn't figure out why, though.

Was it truly Batman's fault? Had that bat really instilled such fear into the objects? Slade knew very well the man's aversion to the weapons, since Bruce Wayne's own parents had been shot down when he was a boy. Did his hatred run that deep that he would train a boy—a _child_ to fear them instead of respect them?

If the boy was truly afraid of guns, that could very well prove some difficulty for Slade. The boy could revert to hysterics over having to deal with them. He nearly did when he thought Slade was entering too far into the 'father' territory. But he calmed down nearly instantly just from Slade clasping his shoulder.

Thank goodness for small oddities. If the boy did break down into hysterics, Slade would have to tread carefully. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind. But, he'd give Dick some time before he tried it out.

However, Slade was aware that he'd have to show the utmost of patience during whatever would happen. The boy would either go into a fit of rage or hysterics – probably both – and Slade had to be prepared to not lose his temper with him. He'd have to have complete and full control over himself. Slade would just have to view the entire matter objectively.

And he'd have to be soft. The boy responded best to that during his most stressful times for some reason. Slade wasn't sure if he could completely do that. But he knew he'd have to – he'd have to if he wanted to get to the bottom of the boy's defiance and fears over guns. There was something more here – Slade was sure of it. There was something deeply rooted inside Dick over this subject.

And Slade was determined to find out exactly what that was.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Four: Weakness Made Strong – With a great deal of struggle, Slade finds out the complete truth about Dick's fears with guns.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	24. Weakness Made Strong

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for always reading and for the reviews. I really appreciate them – even the guest reviews. There's no need to feel like you have to be logged in to drop something by. Ya'll are more than welcome to say what you think. Thanks a ton! ^.^

To the girl who like to read and _thinks_ she can't write: I'm so glad I'm not the only one! Seriously, I giggle every time something embarrassing happens to Dick. I'm mean, honestly, his reactions are too adorable not to giggle. How could you not? XD (Besides, why do you think I put it into this direction? It wasn't just because my heart breaks when he gets cruelly beaten. There is a third reason, but ya'll have to wait for that. ^^)

And for anyone who thinks they can't write; seriously, you can. Trust me. As with anything in life, writing is a process that requires times and continuous work. Anyone can write, but it those who stick with it that'll be able to truly write. I also think the older you get, the better you write – with practice. When I read the stuff that I wrote when I was in my teens, I face palm. So, trust me; if you want to write, the only way you'll be able to do so is if you write a lot. ^-^ And of course, read and study others' styles.

**Slight violence** **warning**, folks. This is one of those few chapters that makes this story T rated. ^^; (At least in my opinion.)

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Weakness Made Strong**

**October 31st, 2008. Friday, 8:00 am.**

Dick lived in constant fear now. It wasn't one of pain or getting hit across the face. No, it was one of being forced to learn how to use a gun – or anything to do with the horrible things.

Luckily, Slade hadn't mentioned guns all week since the previous attempt at it.

But, Dick did _not_ want to learn how to use one. He didn't even want to _touch_ the freaking things. He didn't want to remember. He couldn't remember – he refused to. But the moment he got near those unfeeling metal objects his entire body began to panic. Every part of his entire being rejected the things.

If only he had his mask. Robin could face it as if it were an enemy: take it down with no mercy. But without the mask, his blue eyes saw the object in its unfiltered, tainted purity. It frightened him to no end.

Dick noticed something different with Slade as well. While he was still the task master, there was something unusual. The routine had been lessened up a bit. Dick found himself with another extra hour of free time every day. He also noticed that Slade was more cordial with him – almost to the point of being pleasant even.

But, Dick still didn't trust him. It didn't matter how much effort Slade put into trying to be nicer or whatever – the man just wasn't trustworthy. He had actually apologized for beating Dick, too. Yet, there was no way he could believe that had been sincere. But as a week passed by, Dick noticed that Slade really was changing his way in dealing with him.

The man held his temper quite a bit. Dick had tried to see how far the man could go, trying to test his limits. He really didn't think the man would hold back if he snapped. If he did, then Dick would just prove he was a liar. But when Dick did push the man's limits, he was never struck across the face or punched.

No, he only received that embarrassing clout across the backside.

He had pushed the man to that point a few times this week. It completely confused Dick to no end. He didn't do anything to outright disobey the man, though; knowing full well what that led to. The mere knowledge that the man had not once but _twice_ taken him over his knees was enough to put Dick into pure mortification. So, he didn't have another awkward episode again since last week. He did not need to experience the man's new preferred way of discipline again.

But he knew it was only a matter of time. The man would try again and Dick would refuse, only to get yet another one of _those_. But it didn't matter. Dick would never touch those things. Even if he had endure torture, he just would not touch a gun.

But, life was cruel – totally and completely cruel to Dick.

And it was about to get even crueler.

Dick was following Slade down the stairs into the basement after breakfast. Slade had told him they were changing up the schedule today. Whenever Slade did that, it always made Dick feel uneasy. Slade's rigid schedule was the only consistency that the man had for him; and Dick depended heavily on it.

Dick was led into a large room in the basement he hadn't been in before. His heart stilled as he entered. Wall to wall, there numerous different types of guns hanging up. At one end of the room, there were many racks of long rifles. There were rows and shelves of countless types of weaponry, ranging from knives, swords, foreign blades, bō-staffs, and more. In front, there was a target range as well.

Dick had the sudden urge to throw up.

He backed up against the closed door in fear. There were too many – far too many guns. He seriously needed them to _go away_. He whirled around in a panic and frantically tried to flee the room as fast as possible.

The door was locked.

Dick whirled back around to face the man that held him trapped in this terrible confining, _constricting_ room. Slade was looking at him with a calculating grey blue eye. He was studying him very carefully.

"Slade, let me out of here," whispered Dick anxiously in a small plea. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but he wasn't sure how well he was doing.

"Today, you will learn how to fire a gun at a target," said Slade, his tone in his instructor voice; but he was still studying Dick carefully. Dick jerked his head quickly in a nervous shake.

"No."

"Dick, you will."

"Just let me out!" cried Dick, turning back around and trying the door handle again in vain.

"Dick—"

"_No!_"

"This is getting ridiculous," said Slade; his tone beginning to sound annoyed. Dick felt a hand grab beneath his arm and begin to pull him away from the only exit. Dick ripped out of Slade's grasp with unknown strength; his adrenaline pouring through him from his terror.

No, no, no, no… This was going to bring back _that_ memory. He didn't want to remember _that_ memory. He wasn't ready to deal with it right now. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to escape.

"Dick, stop this," scolded Slade. Dick stilled; overriding his pure terror with pure anger. This man was not going to make him relive this. Dick was _not_ going to relive _that_ memory.

"Let me out," said Dick; his teeth grinding slowly as the fear began to be replaced with his fury.

"No," said Slade.

"_Let me out!_" screamed Dick. He was grabbed and manually turned to the side to be rewarded with a hard clout across his seat. It shocked him into temporary calmness. Then, his shoulders were firmly held by the man's hands and he was forced to face Slade once more.

"Dick, I have no idea what's gotten into you, but you have to control yourself," said Slade. Fury pumped through Dick's veins, fueling his energy.

"_No!_" shouted Dick at the top of his lungs.

"This disobedience isn't tolerated, Dick. You know that," said Slade, his tone turning stern.

"You can wa–wallop me all you want. _Go ahead!_ But I won't—I won't touch those things," cried Dick; furiously slicing a hand through the air in his fury. Slade frowned, his white eyebrows furrowing deeply. He looked puzzled.

"You can do it all day!" continued Dick – anything to convince the man. He'd withstand any torture. He would withstand _anything_ to avoid those things. He just wasn't ready to deal with them. "Not even breaking my arm will make me touch them!"

Slade's eye took on a dark glint. A shiver went down Dick's back in spite of himself. He must've pushed Slade over the edge. This was it. The man was going to go back on his word now – just to prove Dick wrong. But it didn't matter. Dick didn't need to trust Slade or anyone. Nothing mattered, so long as he didn't have to shoot a gun. He couldn't bear to hear that sound right now. Dick Grayson wasn't strong enough.

Not without Robin.

"Let's prove that theory then," said Slade; reaching for his arm. Dick didn't even bother to resist. He didn't care. He scrunched his eyes shut tightly; waiting for the inevitable pain that would shoot through his body.

He waited; feeling Slade's warm hand against his skin.

Then, something cool was pressed into his hand. He almost dropped it in shock. He could feel the cold metal of the object. His breath caught in his chest as he realized what it was.

"I swore I wouldn't anymore," said Slade in a soft voice. "And I keep my word. Besides, if you say breaking your arm won't make you submit, then I see no reason to try."

Oh, why did Slade have to go soft _now?_ The man had to be going soft – that was it. Who replaced Slade with this–this radioactive zombie, as Beast Boy would say. The man was going to keep his word? He wouldn't beat him anymore? _Why not?!_ Did the man really think that Dick would melt under kindness? Of course he wouldn't!

The hand firmly wrapped Dick's fingers around the cold metal. He refused to open his eyes. He focused all his thoughts on the hand on his wrist and not the one that was forcing him to hold that cold, _cold_ metal demon.

It was such a contrast: the warmth from the hand and icy cold from the metal.

Dick's breathing quickened as his heart began to palpitate. His eyes began to burn. _No!_ He couldn't cry now. Slade would be even more angry; crying over a gun. He needed this to stop. He couldn't keep holding onto this cold icy thing in his hand anymore.

But that warm hand wouldn't let go.

"_Please…_" begged Dick in a low whisper; unable to stop the stray tear that broke through his defenses. "_Please, stop this_."

"I'm not going to stop, Dick. I want you to learn."

"_Anything but this_…"

"I don't understand why you're making such a big deal over this," said Slade; sounding greatly confused. "I can't understand Batman's motives for making you so fearful over a metal object."

"He didn't!" protested Dick; his eyes snapping open. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't defend him," said Slade with a frown. "Making a child so fearful over an _object_ is absolutely ridiculous. He should've instilled a reverence, perhaps; but not this ridiculous fear."

"H–he didn't!"

Slade didn't answer this time, but he began to gently pull Dick towards the target range.

_No, no, no, no, no!_

The man was going to force him to hear that sound—oh, that _awful_ sound! No. No! _No!_ Dick wasn't going to hear it; he wasn't going to pull the trigger. Slade couldn't make him. The man couldn't do anything to force Dick to do this.

New adrenaline poured through Dick's blood. With a cry, he wrenched himself free of Slade's grasp; dropping the gun onto the floor. He bolted. He fled towards the door again; slamming into it desperately. He grabbed at the handle and tried to pull with all his power. He was going to break down the door – he had to. He needed to get out of here before that sound blasted through his ears.

A powerful arm wrapped around his waist; another one slid over his forehead with a hand resting against his skin. Dick suddenly felt himself being pushed against the man's body. He thrashed wildly; trying to break free of the hold.

"Calm down."

"Let me go!"

"No."

"_Please!_"

"Dick, calm down now!" shouted Slade; the vibrations of his voice sliding through Dick as well. Dick's breathing quickened as his chest lifted up and down frantically. Now he was ready to cry. The tears began to slip down his cheeks. His chest collapsed into a great sob. He leaned his head back to rest on the man's chest; the tears streaming down his face as he sobbed out loud.

"_Please… Anything but this,_" cried Dick softly through his sobs. He didn't care how weak he appeared right now. He knew he was weak – with this anyways. He could admit it. But he just couldn't bear remembering right now.

Anything – he'd even remember his parents' deaths instead; that he could handle now.

The hand on his forehead began to rub against his skin; the fingers sliding up and lifting as they stroked him. It was slow and gentle.

This only made Dick sob even worse. The man was trying to get to him; trying to melt him with kindness. If anything, that was Dick's greatest weakness. But he had to remain strong. He couldn't be tricked into firing a gun.

The hand moved to his left shoulder and began to firm slide back and forth firmly; squeezing now and then. It was wrapped around Dick's upper chest.

"Dick, you _must_ calm down. You're going into hysterics," said Slade. Dick could feel the man's smooth, low voice meld into his soul, stilling it.

_No!_

"You need to calm down. I won't let you go until I'm sure you're calm again."

There was nothing Dick could do. The man's voice was calming him down. The strong arm around his waist and the comforting arm that was wrapped in front of him with that hand on his shoulder were all too much for Dick's brain to think straight. His breathing began to flow back into a slow rhythm. His heart rate slowly regulated.

The arm loosened its grip from around Dick's waist. The steady warmth from the body that stood behind him disappeared. Dick was slowly turned around by hands. He didn't look up at Slade – he didn't want to see the expression on the man's face. Besides, he was pretty sure his own face was a wreck from his tears.

Slade remained quiet. He took Dick by the underarm and pulled him back towards the target range.

There was no hope. There was no fighting him. The man was going to force him no matter what. Dick felt as if he was being led to a firing squad. Actually, that didn't sound so bad at that very moment.

Slade put the metal object into his hand again. Then, Slade came around behind him and enveloped Dick's arms with his own. He forced his arms to lift up towards the target. Dick could feel the cool surface of the gun against his skin; contrasting the warmth he felt from the man.

But this time there was no comfort in the warmth.

"Look at the target and focus," instructed Slade quietly. "Once you get the hang of it, you'll be able to do it on your own. Once you try it, I'm sure you'll find it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be."

_Slade's in for a rude awakening,_ thought Dick dully.

Slade's finger overlapped Dick's. It took all of Dick's strength to remain calm, but he knew what was going to happen. Once he heard the noise, he would lose it. The memories would come flooding back and Dick would be submerged and lost within the torrent.

That much he was sure of.

His fingers were forced down completely; the trigger fired. The sound blasted through the air; piercing Dick's ears.

Dick was lost as his screams of terror filled the air. He wasn't aware that he was hyperventilating. He wasn't aware that Slade was trying to calm him down.

He was deep within a memory – a terrible, _awful_ memory.

ooOOOOOoo

"_But Bruce! I can help! Quick treating me like I can't handle this stuff," protested Dick hotly as he watched Bruce suit up. The man slipped the cowl over his face; two sharp blue eyes showing through the holes._

"_No, Dick," said Bruce. "I don't want you on this mission. The Joker is on one his more violent rampages. I don't want you anywhere near that. It's not safe and it will more than likely traumatize you."_

"_But that's not fair!" cried Dick; crossing his arm angrily. "You're treating me like a little kid and I'm not. I can handle this kind of stuff."_

"_You're twelve years old," snapped Bruce. "That is the age of a child whether you think it is or not. I am the adult and you are the child. You will obey me or you can forget about going on patrol for two weeks."_

"_But—"_

"_Argue one more time over this and I'll make it a month," said Bruce; his blue eyes flashing sharply through his cowl. _

_Dick fought back a retort and tightened his folded arms in frustration. Bruce didn't say anything more as he entered the Batmobile and the door automatically closed. Dick watched unhappily as the sleek car zoomed out of the Batcave._

_It was so unfair! Bruce was getting worse than ever now. Ever since Robin had been captured and tortured by Two-Face, Bruce was holding him back more and more. Come on, it hadn't been all that bad; Robin could handle it. He was strong, after all. And didn't Bruce trust Dick at all? Dick was better, stronger then when he had been a little kid. Now he could handle anything and anyone – and on his own, too._

_He just didn't get Bruce at all!_

_But Bruce couldn't keep him locked up like this – this was honestly ridiculous. Bruce couldn't really think that Dick would sit back and not help. Well, Dick would just go out on patrol on his own. He could keep criminals in line without Batman's help just fine. He was trained by him, after all. Why couldn't Bruce have more confidence in Dick's abilities?_

_With his heart pounding with his decision, he quickly slipped his suit on; observing his look in the mirror. He frowned for a minute. Hm, it was time for a costume update. This thing totally looked like he was running around in his underwear. Yup, time for a slight revamp – at least in the pants area._

_But that would have to happen later. Tonight he was going to prove to Bruce that he wasn't just some kid that he can leave behind. He was Robin, the Boy Wonder; who had a duty to protect the people of Gotham City from insane criminals – just like the Joker._

_It was the one time Dick Grayson, Robin would admit that he should've listened to Bruce._

_Thus, Robin went out into the night by himself. He kept his eyes open for any suspicious activity. As Robin easily swooped in the air, his acrobatic body completely in its element, he stopped as his eye caught a terrible sight. He leapt down to the street ground and his stomach turned. There were many people – all dead – strewn all throughout the street. The ground was soaked, drenched with blood. The air had a sickening smell and even held a damp, almost sticky sensation._

_Robin turned to the wall; placing a hand on it for support as his stomach contracted violently, causing him to empty the contents of his stomach out onto the ground. The acid burned his throat and made his eyes water terribly. He wiped his mouth with his arm; wishing he could rinse out the awful taste in his mouth._

_Humans didn't normally look like that. Robin was used to seeing death – he saw it all the time with Batman. It was just part of the job. But this… This was something all new to Robin._

_This was insanity._

_This was cruelty._

_This was barbaric._

"_Well, well, well. What have we here? A little birdie is all alone and away from the nest."_

_Robin chilled, knowing that voice perfectly. He swallowed bitter taste in his mouth and whirled around. The Joker was stepping – almost skipping – through the carnage; thoroughly unaffected by the death that was surrounding him. He was swirling a small machine gun in one hand and a knife in another; the blade gleaming—dripping with blood._

"_Joker! You're not going to get away with this!" shouted Robin._

"_No? Why not?" asked the Joker innocently, tilting his head to the side as if in deep questioning. Robin didn't dignify that with a verbal answer. There was no reasoning with this man – he was completely nuts, off his rocker, bonkers, and insane. Even then, that didn't begin to describe him._

_Robin pulled out his bō-staff and faced the Joker carefully. Batman had warned him that he wasn't allowed to face such powerful criminals, but it was obvious he couldn't escape this. His heart was pounding in his chest with fear. Robin was afraid of this psycho – no doubt about it. He was definitely terrified – especially after what he did to those poor people. There was no remorse for death. But Robin was brave. And he was strong enough to bring down this demon who was completely drenched within his deranged tendencies. Robin could do anything – he'd prove it to Batman. The man couldn't hold back in his shadow anymore._

"_Aho, the little birdie wants to play," said the Joker with a wild grin. "Well, isn't this my night for fun."_

_He lifted the gun and shot with rapid fire towards him. Robin rolled out of the way, trying to stay out of range of the gun. Then, he darted forward; swinging the bō-staff with terrible strength. The Joker languidly dodged out of the way. Robin twisted to the side and brought the staff upwards towards the Joker's face. A _clang_ rang through the air as the weapons made contact – the Joker blocking Robin's staff with the large machine gun. The Joker's eyes seemed to bug out with his pure excitement of the battle._

_With a gleeful cry, the Joker pushed Robin with a tremendous amount of force. Robin fell backwards, rolling out of the throw. But he didn't have time to react as the gun shot again and pain seared through his leg._

"_Oh dear, I got ya," said the Joker, his grin spreading even wider. "Good, now you can't dart around."_

_Robin rolled to the side on the ground and groaned in pain. He sat back on his seat and curled the injured leg to his chest. The gun wound was terrible – pain beyond anything he could've imagined. Sharp, searing blasting pain that was mocking him evilly as it shot through his entire leg. This was his first time feeling a bullet – Batman usually shielded him from such things. The wound was in his lower calf and he simply wanted to scream. That had to make it better. But instead, he gritted his teeth through the unrelenting pain; trying to bear through it stoically. _

"_Like the décor?" asked the Joker, waving his hand with the knife towards the carnage. Robin didn't answer – unable to speak. He was all too aware of the fact that he was sitting in a pool of blood. The terrible stench was making his stomach turn again and it took all his willpower to keep from dry heaving. His eyes watered from the thick air and his restraints on his pain._

"_But I'm bored again," shrugged the Joker. "It's a good thing you came along, little birdie. Now I have someone to play with."_

"_You won't have time!" cried Robin through gritted teeth. "Batman will come and—"_

"_Probably," nodded the Joker in a considering way. But then, a bright glint entered his green eyes that seemed to light them up even within the night shadows. His terrible smile widened. "But how much will there be left of the little birdie for him to rescue?"_

_A chill went down Robin's back. He scuttled backwards; his face scrunching up in pain as the searing wound raged at him to hold still. But he couldn't – the psycho was going to kill him; torture him until he died. This psycho would be far more terrible than Two-Face._

_The Joker was exceptionally deranged tonight._

_The quiet squelching sound of the Joker's steps echoed through the street as he advanced on Robin. Something bumped into Robin's back and he froze. His heart quickened terribly to the point of palpitating and falling in his chest as he realized what was behind him. His hand slipped over a cold, wet surface and he could feel his stomach scream at him to throw up again._

"_Ah, careful with the décor. Don't want to upset it," commented the Joker lightly. Robin was frozen before the demon. He should've listened to Bruce. Of all the times he had to prove to the man he was strong, he had to get himself shot in the leg by a man who was completely unstable._

_The Joker smiled; his eyes lighting up as he lifted the knife up to his face. He opened his deformed mouth, his writhing out to lick the edge of the knife. Instantly, a chill went down Robin's back, the hair on the back on his neck rising up; the absolute paralyzing fear shivering through his entire body._

"_This should be fun." The Joker frowned suddenly. "But it's so quiet. You really are quite stoic to take a bullet silently. I wonder… How many more can you take before you sing for me?"_

_The gun lifted towards his arm and blasted once. The same searing pain tore through Robin's right upper arm. He screamed this time; the sound of his voice tearing his throat._

"_That's better," said the Joker happily; nearly bouncing on the balls on his feet. "Music to my ears tonight."_

_Robin gasped in pain. Sweat poured off his body and his heart thumped rapidly against his chest. The pain was merciless and ravaging. His vision became blurry for a moment as his eyes flooded with his tears. He blinked, sending the tears downward to soak into the edges of his mask._

_The Joker knelt down in front of him. Robin's heart pounded furiously in complete terror. Those green deranged eyes bore into him, the insanity almost tearing, ripping apart his soul. Robin couldn't get away; he needed to get away._

_But he was trapped._

_The Joker dropped the knife and reached forward towards his right arm. Robin gasped with fright, wishing he could get away; that this crazed creature before him would go away. More tears filled his eyes. This was scary – far more terrifying__then anything he could've imagined._

_And no one was going to be able to save him._

_The Joker's fingers touched the wound. Robin bit back a another scream that wanted to rip through his throat. The man was touching him – this insane monster was actually touching him. He was so close—too close. Get away, get away, get away!_

"_Ooh, you're still a stoic little birdie, aren't you?" asked the Joker in a mocking tone. He stood up and pointed the gun at Robin._

"_Let's try another!" cried the Joker cheerfully. Robin couldn't do anything as the gun aimed at his other arm, towards his shoulder. Further tears flooded through Robin's eyes as the fear and terror began to devastate his heart._

_Another blast and another searing pain ripped through Robin. He was sure he tore his throat with his screams. Now he was completely sobbing; the tears soaking past his mask to run down his cheeks in waves. His mind was becoming foggy through the unrelenting pain._

_Why hadn't he just listened to Bruce? And why wasn't Bruce here to help him? Where was he? Didn't he care about him? Or was it all really true… what all those papers said… all those news reporters…_

_That Richard Grayson was just a charity case to Bruce._

"_Wow, bird boy, you're really good creating music," said the Joker. "You probably can only handle one more before you pass out, right? But that's okay. I'll send you home to Daddy Bats in a nice clean box. Haha, but I'm sure some assembly will be required."_

_That awful, terrible laugh. Robin's couldn't think properly. All he could hear was that chilling awful laugh. It's terrible ringing tones drained all the strength from Robin's soul. It melded with another blast and the same searing pain blossomed through his chest._

_Robin was sure he was going to die now. Perhaps, his mother would meet him on the other side. Had he been good enough to see her again? Probably not… She had been so good, so beautiful… Dick couldn't compare. Her little robin was tainted now; tainted in the terrible color of blood red._

_He wasn't sure how long he was there; trapped in the unreal limbo of pain and reality. Time seemed to freeze for him. Before he fully blacked out, he remembered one thing. Strong arms drew him upward and the low voice of Bruce filled his ears._

"_You're not going to die, Robin. You're going to be all right. Hang on."_

_Somehow, though, Robin hadn't believed him._

ooOOOOOoo

**October 31st, 2008. Friday, 8:32 am.**

Dick was trapped within his mind; the overpowering memory drowning his senses completely. He was lost – completely lost and unprotected against his mind. The awful laughter rang through his ears and the shots blasted over and over again. He could almost feel the pain once again, searing through his entire body.

Suddenly, Dick felt warmth surround him. Its strength was beyond anything he had ever felt before. He was completely enveloped in the strong, powerful warmth. Something was quietly whispering in his ears; the breath warming and tickling him.

Then, the whispers began to make sense.

"Dick, you're safe. You're safe now. Come back. Everything is fine. You're all right. You are safe."

Dick's breathing shuddered once as he began to come back to his senses. Suddenly, he was aware of his surroundings – and it completely shocked him. The warmth that he had been feeling was Slade. The man had pulled Dick into his chest and wrapped a strong arm around his back and the other one cradled the back of his head; the hand sliding through his hair. The hand on his back was rubbing his back in a small soothing motion.

The whispers were Slade's face near Dick's ear; his voice speaking calmly, but firmly. At first, Dick panicked wildly, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. The man was holding him – Dick didn't want this man to comfort him like this. But soon, his soul accepted it – for now. For now, he'd accept it. For now, he'd accept the kindness; the warmth; the comfort.

His breathing began to calm; his palpitating heart began to regulate. Soon, he lifted his hands and pressed them against Slade's chest. He had to get out of this hold, or else he'd get used to it. He wasn't supposed to get used to kindness from Slade. This man was supposed to be his captor.

Slade released him. Dick instantly wrapped his arms around his chest as he began to shiver. His skin glistened with a heavy layer of sweat from his panic. The two of them stood there in silence for a few minutes.

"What happened?" asked Slade finally; his voice barely above a whisper. The man looked shaken by the whole experience. Dick didn't answer; still holding himself as he kept his face turned away. More minutes passed. Dick wondered how much patience had Slade obtained now.

"You have a phobia, don't you?" asked Slade. "A phobia with guns, am I correct?"

Dick whipped his head back towards Slade and shook his head rapidly. Slade raised his eyebrow. Dick bit his lip and cast his eyes downward before he gave a reluctant nod. He closed his eyes, sending a small wave of tears down his face that he didn't know had collected in his eyes. There was a deep sigh from Slade before Dick felt a strong, but gentle hand grab him by the arm. Dick allowed himself to be led away. He didn't care anymore. He was mentally exhausted. He stared at the floor as he was pulled away. He barely noticed that they left the room and entered the living room in the basement.

Dick was led to the sofa where Slade carefully pushed him down so that he sat on the couch. Dick just sat there in silence, unsure what the man was going to do next. Was the man going to yell at him for not telling him this important piece of news? It probably threw a wrench in the man's plans for him.

Something warm wrapped around Dick's shoulders. He noticed right away that a blanket had been draped around him. Then, Slade sat down on the sofa near him. Dick curled his fingers around the fabric and tightened it around him. He was thankful for it, but his mouth wouldn't open.

A few more moments passed in silence.

"Dick, I need you to explain to me what caused you to fear guns," said Slade. Dick didn't respond. He wasn't sure how he could talk about it. He had never told anyone before. Bruce didn't know. The Teen Titans didn't know. Robin didn't know – well… he did, but he wasn't affected by it like Dick.

Dick was – extremely so.

"Dick, I can't help you if you don't talk about this," said Slade. Dick lifted his eyes to stare up at the man. Slade looked very somber and serious. Dick wanted to laugh, but he didn't have the energy. Help him? Slade was acting as if he wanted to help him. That was funny – real good joke.

But Dick's tongue began to loosen anyway.

"Wh… When I was twelve, Batman wouldn't let me go a patrol one night…" began Dick hesitantly. Slade was silent, for which Dick was grateful. "He said the Joker was on a violent rampage. I was mad at Bruce so I went off on my own. He'd been so overprotective lately. It had been driving me crazy. But, I should've listened to him. I should've—"

"What happened, happened," said Slade, overriding him. "You can't lament over the mistake, Dick. That doesn't fix it."

Dick nodded. He sighed as he curled the blanket around himself some more; feeling the warmth flow over him. He ignored the sticky sensation his perspiring skin was experiencing.

"I… I found the Joker before Batman did. A street—" Dick's voice broke for a moment as he remembered the terrible scene. "The street was filled with… carnage – carnage like never I had seen before." Dick quickly wiped a stray tear that was sliding down his face. He noticed briefly that Slade's lips tightened for a moment. Dick's tongue began to speed up as he spilled the rest of the tale in a hurry; as if trying to rip off a bandage.

"I fought with him, but I wasn't fast enough and he ended shooting me in the leg so I couldn't run away. At first, I thought he was going to cut me up, but instead he shot me in the arm. He—"

Dick's voice broke as he remembered how close that awful crazed demon had gotten to him. An unbidden shiver went through his body before he managed to continue.

"H–he touched me… He touched the wound and was so close—he was so close to me. Then, he pulled back and shot me in the shoulder. I seriously thought I was going to die. He said he was going to send me to Batman in a box – _in pieces_. Then, he laughed that awful, _awful sickening_ laugh as he shot me again – in the chest. I thought I was dead, but the last thing I remember hearing was Batman telling me I was going to live."

There was more silence. Dick found himself continuing; unsure why he was saying these things to Slade of all people. Maybe it was true that telling someone else didn't seem so bad as telling the people who cared.

"Obviously, I lived through it," whispered Dick. "But I had a lot of nightmares about it – _a lot_. I never told Batman, though. I was terrified of guns and of the Joker after that. I noticed that I flinched badly if I ever heard a gunshot; which in Gotham, it's part of the ambiance. It took some time, but I recovered and I wanted to go back on patrol with Batman. But he was fiercely opposed to it. He told me that he didn't want my help anymore."

Dick shrugged irritably as he remembered how angry he had been at Bruce.

"I guess he was worried? But when I protested, he flat out fired me. Said there was no longer a Batman and Robin."

Dick turned his head away. He wanted to voice his feelings on that matter, but he held back. Slade didn't need to know that Bruce rejecting him like that had been a worse wound than the four bullets he'd taken from the Joker combined. It had torn through his heart to the point he had felt that it wasn't reparable. And when Bruce hadn't gone after him, it just confirmed all his feelings.

"So, I ran away. I guess I was lucky, since Jump City rarely has major armed robberies. The city just gets metahumans and freaks." Dick let a small smirk lift the side of his mouth. "With the occasional psychopathic Slade."

There was a responding smirk from that. Slade remained quiet for a moment longer before he nodded.

"Well, this is definitely a setback, but nothing that can't be overcome with time and a little hard work," said Slade. Dick stared at the man in total surprise. Slade's mouth lifted even further into his smirk; his eyebrow lifting to add to the effect.

"What, did you think that because you have this phobia that you would get out of learning how to use a gun?" asked Slade with a lift of his eyebrow.

Dick remained silent. Why did the man have to make it sound like he had planned it? It wasn't his fault that the Joker decided to put holes through him like he was Swiss cheese.

"Dick, listen to me. This is just a weakness. Weaknesses were made to be overcome," said Slade. Dick looked into Slade's grey blue eye. He could tell the older man was being serious with him.

"Even if you weren't my apprentice, this is a bad weakness for a hero," continued Slade. "Would you scream every time a criminal pointed a gun at you? Would you freeze in fear? This is a very dangerous weakness. You could get killed."

Dick couldn't bring himself to explain to the man that when he was Robin, he didn't freeze up so much against guns. He did all right. There had been times that his heart rate felt like it would burst out of his chest, but he did just fine. It was Slade's fault for taking his mask away. If he had the mask, then Dick wouldn't freak out so bad. Robin was strong – _he_ could handle anything.

"But, Dick; I promise you," began Slade. Dick looked directly into the man's eye and saw something powerful within them. "I will help you overcome this weakness. We'll take it slowly and overcome this – _together_. I swear this to you."

Dick's eyes widened in surprise. Slade was… going to help him overcome this? Was he really going to help him? Was Slade really going to patiently help Dick overcome his fear? But that was like Slade wanted to help Dick. But there was no way. Did the man really _want_ to help Dick?

But… the man did swear to it – which meant he gave his word.

Slade _was_ going to help Dick overcome his fear of guns – there was no doubt about that. Somehow, Dick knew the man would keep his word. But it was so strange; in Dick's mind, he still didn't trust Slade; but in his heart, there was something telling him that the man would keep this promise.

Dick couldn't help but think that was more than Bruce ever did, even though he didn't know about the phobia. What would've Bruce said if he learned about it? Even without the knowledge, he had wanted Dick to quit. Bruce probably would've become even more suffocating in his protection. Dick knew that he meant well, but that wasn't going to do him any good.

But Slade was telling him that he would help him.

Dick closed his eyes. He was so confused. Slade was being so… soft and gentle right now about this. Dick was falling into a trap. That's what this had to be – a trap concocted by Slade to lull him into a sense of security. It was scaring him. But there was something else that was absolutely terrifying Dick.

It was working.

"Dick? Will you at least try?" Slade's questioning voice was soft and smooth, coaxing in a gentle tone. Dick found himself unable to deny the man. He opened his eyes and gave the man a nod in response. Slade gave him an approving smile and clasped him on the shoulder. The warmth flooded through Dick's skin, bringing an overwhelming sense of comfort to his soul. He wasn't sure what to think of it.

"We'll take it slowly," said Slade, a knowing smile lifting his mouth. "But I think for the rest of the day we'll do something else."

"Okay," whispered Dick, wondering if he had completely fallen into a trap.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Five: Hit or Miss – Cyborg and Beast Boy infiltrate the H.I.V.E. Academy. Will they find any information on Slade or will their mission come up nothing?

**Author's Notes: ***breathes a sigh of relief* If someone had told me five months ago that'd I'd be writing something with the Joker in it, I'd probably would've laughed in said someone's face. XD I hate the Joker. I hate his face. (Not a much as I hate Two-Face's face, though) He's just… *shudders* I did look on YouTube to hear his laughter, though. Disturbing dude.

Bytheway, ya'll notice the date in the story? *double lift of the eyebrows* Heh, had to do it. XD

I always found it interesting whenever the subject of 'guns' popped up in Apprentice fics. But there was always a similar theme with them and I couldn't help but wonder, what the heck would Slade do if the kid was honestly terrified of them? So, I decided to push it to a new level and add a phobia. Interesting enough, there isn't a true phobia of guns. XD Ah well, works for dear Dick here.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	25. Hit or Miss

**Author's Note:** Thanks a bunch for all the continual support! ^.^ I love every review. Not to mention they're helpful, too. Ya'll can ramble or 'spew junk' all you want. It truly is actually very helpful. ^^

As a few of you pointed out, the phobia for the fear of weapons is Hoplophobia. I had looked it up at wiki and found that for some split haired reason, it's actually not considered a 'true' phobia. *shrugs* I dunno about you, but I highly doubt that I'd be real pleasant around any chap that was wielding a weapon and _especially_ _not_ when said weapon was pointed at me. Just saying.

I dunno, that's just me.

LOL.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Hit or Miss**

**November 10th, 2008. Monday, 7:30 am.**

The air was stale in the tiny compartment that Beast Boy was waiting in. He buzzed his wings to get the stale air to breeze around him. There were a few holes so that he could breath, but it was still extremely stifling inside this thing.

This was second week that Cyborg and Beast Boy were infiltrating the H.I.V.E. Academy. So far the two of them had been perfectly undetected. Cyborg fit in perfectly with his 'classmates' and no one questioned the small container that was always on Cyborg's wrist.

That's where Beast Boy was – in a tiny container. He could see out of it, but no one could see him. He was shape shifted into a little green fly, ready in case there was an emergency.

But, there wasn't one.

Beast Boy honestly was getting tired of the mission. He knew and understood that it was of the utmost importance. But sitting in this container day in and day out was trying on the young changeling. He had to admit it: he was _bored_ out of his mind. He knew that Cyborg depended on him a lot, but this was getting so boring.

Luckily, Cyborg did let him out to stretch his limbs and do the necessities when needed, but Beast Boy wish he could do something fun in his fly form. He really needed to shrink a comic book or something. He was dying in here.

But he really wanted to prove himself to Cyborg. He really looked up to his older friend. Cyborg was the oldest out of the entire group and was really almost like an older brother to Beast Boy. He was almost thirteen now – just under a month away – and he was anxious to get out of the little kid mold and into the teenager one.

He wasn't just some little kid.

But, he was getting bored. Adults got bored too, didn't they? Getting bored was _not_ a sign of his young age. No, it wasn't at all. Anyone would get bored after being stuck inside a container all day long – except for breaks – for two weeks. They'd have to be some kind of radioactive zombie not to be.

And it wasn't as if he could talk to Cyborg either. It wasn't possible to talk in his fly form. All he could do was watch Cyborg as he went through the day in classes. His older friend would casually ask questions to the other students, but from what Beast Boy gathered – he only managed to pay attention sixty-five percent of the time – no student had anything to offer.

And it was like that every single day. No one had anything to say about Slade. Well, many revered the man. Beast Boy couldn't believe how many of the students wanted to be the man's apprentice. But no one had any concrete information that could prove useful. It was discouraging.

Beast Boy was going crazy. He was now at his limit. He buzzed his wings furiously, trying to signal Cyborg. He needed a break. He needed out of this stupid thing. He was trying – he really was, but this was just getting too hard on his young nerves.

And no, he wasn't a kid.

Luckily, Cyborg got the message. He excused himself from the class that he was currently attending and hurried to the public lavatory. He locked the door behind himself so no one could walk in on them. Then, satisfied that no one would enter, Cyborg popped the lid open to the little compartment.

Beast Boy flew out immediately; morphing into his human form and collapsing to the floor onto his back.

"What's going on, BB?" asked Cyborg, sounding a little worried.

"_Duuuude_," cried Beast Boy weakly. "I can't take it anymore. I'm bored out of my mind."

Cyborg folded his arms and sent a stern look his way. Beast Boy almost squirmed under that glare. With the hologram that Cyborg was using to cover up his synthetic features, the chocolate skinned boy that towered over him looked more like a powerful older football player that could totally kick his butt.

"Is that what this is about? You made me get out of class because you're bored?"

Beast Boy shot up from the floor, crossing his legs in front and leaning on his hands in his lap.

"Dude! I've been stuck in that thing for two weeks now!" cried Beast Boy. "I've done pretty good, okay? But I'm at my limit. I'm going stir crazy!"

Cyborg sighed and shook his head. "Look, BB. We need to keep this up. You're the only one who can remain undetected right now. I still need you."

Beast Boy folded his arms with a grumpy huff and turned his head away.

_Aw, why'd Cy have to go and say that?_

That was just going to make Beast Boy feel all bad inside and want to do better. But he truly was going crazy. He couldn't handle this anymore. But he really wanted to live up to Cyborg's expectations. He really wanted to do anything to help save Robin. He missed his friend so much. He admired Robin a ton, especially since he had been the Boy Wonder, partner to the Dark Knight of Gotham.

Sometimes, though, there was only so much he could stand. He really, _really_ was trying as hard as he could. He needed a break from the endless boredom that was crushing his brain. He needed stimulation and he needed it fast.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?" asked Beast Boy, trying not to whine, but failing at it. "Nobody has had anything good to say! Maybe if we were getting somewhere…"

"BB—" Cyborg stopped suddenly as he let out an exasperated sigh. He swiped his hand over his face tiredly. "Look, I know it's hard. It's not all fun and picnics for me either. I have to act like I'm studying this crap – and remember it. It's boring for me, too. But we have to find something here. We have to do this for Robin. You want to rescue him, right?"

"Of course!" snapped Beast Boy, hating the tone that Cyborg took as he asked the question. It made him feel like a little kid. Of course he wanted to rescue their friend. Wasn't that obvious? What a stupid question!

"Then we just have to endure this. Can't you hold on for just a little longer?"

How the older teen managed to sound like a patronizing, yet soft older brother, Beast Boy would never know. It wasn't Cyborg's usual style, but he had been doing things differently as the current leader of the Teen Titans. Color didn't matter here with Cyborg's rich chocolate skin and Beast Boy's dark green skin – Beast Boy honestly felt like his whiny little kid brother.

And that made him both annoyed and mad with himself.

He was supposed to prove that he was mature enough to handle stuff like this. Beast Boy desperately wanted to prove himself. He hated it when Cyborg went all authoritative on him, but Beast Boy knew he had to sometimes – especially since Cyborg was the leader right now. He wanted to show him and the others that they could depend on him. He wasn't just the goof ball in this team; he wasn't just a little kid even though he was the youngest.

He honestly had to help bring back Robin. Nothing would be normal anymore if Robin didn't come back. Who would play video games with him? He loved playing with Robin just as much as he loved playing with Cyborg. Beast Boy respected Robin as a leader and greatly admired him. He missed his friend a ton.

Beast Boy bit his lower lip.

He could do this. He _had_ to do this. He could remain strong for Robin, who was probably enduring worse things than being bored for hours on end. If Robin could endure anything, then Beast Boy could endure another round of boredom.

Beast Boy leapt to his feet easily and stretched wildly. He turned and twisted out all of the kinks in his body. Then, without another word, he bolted into a stall in the bathroom; leaving behind Cyborg with a lifted eyebrow. Two minutes, one flush, and a quick wash of his hands later, Beast Boy stood in front of Cyborg and looked up into the older teen's face.

"Beast Boy reporting for duty, sir," said Beast Boy with a broad smile; saluting him. Cyborg grinned and shook his head; playfully dropping a hand onto Beast Boy's head of green hair and ruffling it.

"There ya go," said Cyborg; smiling. "All right, morph and we'll get back to class."

And with that Beast Boy morphed into his fly form and settled back into the compartment. The lid clamped down; sealing Beast Boy inside. He watched as Cyborg left the lavatory and walked back to class. Beast Boy could tell that they really hadn't missed anything. This school droned on endlessly about stupid things – like in the current class; something about creating a homemade supersonic weapon. Beast Boy honestly couldn't believe they really taught these kids the effect routes of becoming high profile villains.

It was nuts.

Who in their right mind went to a _school_ to learn about becoming a villain? How crazy and stupid could a person get? Sometimes, Beast Boy couldn't believe how weird some people were.

Beast Boy blinked his large fly eyes. He was getting a bit drowsy. He might as well try to go for a nap. It was either be awake and be bored out of his mind or sleep – and sleep seemed the best option right now. It wasn't like he was going to miss anything important.

His wings lowered back slightly on his back. He knew he probably should stay alert – you never know when something was going to happen. But, Beast Boy was sure that since nothing majored had happened in the past two weeks that something wasn't going to pop up all of the sudden.

Such words usually always bit one in the butt, though.

What Beast Boy didn't know – or would've had he been paying attention in class – was that not only was this class creating a homemade supersonic weapon today, it was also going to test it.

Beast Boy probably hadn't been asleep for more than an hour when an enormous sound blasted through the air, shocking him out of his sleep. It had startled him so bad that he wasn't quite with it. His mind was still foggy with sleep; thus, his body began to morph automatically.

The compartment that contained him shattered as his body grew to an enormous size. Students were shouting in shock as they scrambled out of the way. Well, who wouldn't? There was a giant green Tyrannosaurus Rex in the middle of the classroom, who was shaking his head in confusion; blinking his large reptilian eyes blearily. Cyborg did a complete face palm as his hand smacked his forehead in frustration.

"_Beast Boy!_" shouted Cyborg at the top of his lungs. The Tyrannosaurus Rex blinked rapidly; surprised at hearing his name so loudly. Then, he looked down and his heart sunk deep into the pit of his stomach. He instantly morphed back into his human form, sending Cyborg a sheepish and repentant smile.

"Um… good morning?" said Beast Boy. Cyborg groaned loudly. The Headmistress of the school, a tall old woman, stepped forward from the front of the class. She had been standing at the blackboard; completely unaffected by the chaos that had ravaged her classroom. She stood tall and erect before Cyborg and Beast Boy.

Immediately, Cyborg sent the alarm to Raven and Starfire for their backup. He dropped the hologram and powered up his cannon, pointing it at the old woman.

"The Teen Titans," said the older woman's voice uniformly. She watched as Cyborg adjusted his cannon slightly. Beast Boy was internally beating himself up. He completely blew their cover. This was all his fault. If he hadn't fallen asleep and transformed suddenly from that noise, none of this would've happened. He seriously wanted to hit himself. But he was sure Cyborg would probably do that later and Beast Boy wouldn't have the heart to stop him.

"Madam Headmistress," said Cyborg, keeping his tone curt, yet polite. "Look, we're not here to take down the H.I.V.E. We're just here for some information."

"So, you've been masquerading as Stone these past two weeks?" asked the Headmistress. Cyborg nodded. The old woman raised an eyebrow on her rigid face. "And no one here managed to figure it out. Impressive."

That seemed to take Cyborg off guard. Then, a moment later, the dark power of Raven's magic seeped from the wall of the classroom in the form of a black raven. Once the power faded, in its place stood Raven and Starfire, both equally ready for a fight if the need arose.

"Well, that's four of you. Where's the little leader, hm?" asked the Headmistress.

"Abroad on another mission," said Raven; her mouth twitching once.

"Look, all we want is some information. Shouldn't be too difficult," said Cyborg, obviously wanting to steer the conversation away from the topic of Robin.

The Headmistress raised her eyebrow again.

"Information? For instance?"

"We know Slade has contracted students from this place. We want any info you've got on Slade," said Cyborg. The Headmistress shook her head.

"I am impressed that you managed to infiltrate my school," said the Headmistress, lifting her hand to touch her fingers together in front of her chest. "I will offer you some information as a small reward since I am greatly impressed with your skills. On anything else, I could comply. Slade, however, is information I cannot give you."

"Why not?" demanded Beast Boy suddenly. He cowered instantly afterwards, his ears drooping from the hard look that Cyborg shot his way.

_That's right. I outta keep my mouth shut…_

"I just cannot give you anything on him," said the Headmistress. "It is part of our agreement with him."

"Can you not lead us to someone who can?" asked Starfire.

"Once again, that would go against my agreement with the man," said the Headmistress. "I'm sorry, Teen Titans. You'll have to look elsewhere for your information. If you leave without incident, I'll let you go without a fight. I rather not have the lot of you tearing apart my school like this little urchin here did to my classroom."

Cyborg lowered his cannon as it powered down; his human eye glinting dangerously. Beast Boy could just about hear his thoughts. Cyborg was furious that the mission was now a failure. And it was probably all Beast Boy's fault. Beast Boy bit his lip nervously. Why'd he screw up like that? Was he really just some little kid after all who couldn't do a man's job?

"Come on, guys," said Cyborg, his voice tight and resentful. "Let's go back home."

Cyborg strode out of the classroom with steps that were completely familiar to himself. He turned down a hallway as the other three began to follow him. Beast Boy trailed in the back, his long ears drooping heavily. He felt like crap – completely and totally hated himself at that very minute. It was so bad that his eyes were burning with the intense desire to cry. He just screwed up their only chance to find out how to save Robin.

This was all his fault.

He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes, just to make sure they wouldn't break down and tear up. He wasn't about to cry in front of the others. That would only prove even more that he was just a little kid.

"Stone, wait."

Cyborg stopped suddenly. Starfire and Raven did so as well and turned towards the direction of the voice. Beast Boy wasn't paying attention and he ended up bumping into Raven's back. He tried not to cower more than he already was under the fierce glare that Raven sent him.

Jinx walked into the main hallway. Her bright lilac hair always unsettled Beast Boy's stomach. There was something about her that made him nervous. Jinx set her lilac eyes onto the three of them and glared darkly, before turning her gaze back to Cyborg; her softening as she did so.

"I thought you were one of us," said Jinx.

"I'm sorry," replied Cyborg, his tone gentle. "But I was always here just for some information on Slade. Nothing more and nothing less."

Jinx folded her arms and looked down at the ground for a few moments. A glimmer of emotion passed over her eyes as she looked back up at him. A defiant expression passed over her face.

"I've got something."

The group of Teen Titans stilled suddenly as if each forgot to breathe. Finally, Cyborg tilted his head to the side.

"Well… are you gonna share with the rest of the class?" asked Cyborg with a small impish smirk.

"I dunno," shrugged Jinx. "You were expelled just now, weren't you?"

"Please, Jinx. It's really important."

Jinx sighed and shook her head. "Fine, but I don't know how much it'll help you out – and this doesn't make us friends or anything just so you know."

Cyborg only smiled softly at that.

"Okay, so all I know is there was this girl that had a connection to Slade; I think, personally," continued Jinx. "She came to this school for awhile, but left soon after. She kept to herself a lot – really didn't like to be around anyone. And when you did try to be friendly, she blew you off. When the Headmistress was looking for students to contract under Slade, she first offered it to this girl, but she flatly refused. Said something like she didn't want anything to do with the man." Jinx shrugged. "I dunno, it just seemed like she knew more about Slade than the rest of us."

"Do you know anything else? Like where we might find her?" asked Cyborg.

"She's probably still in the city," said Jinx with another shrug. "I can tell you what she looked like. She had long white hair and violet red eyes. Besides that, I've got nothing else. She never told anyone her name. We just called her the albino."

"Thanks, Jinx. We appreciate this," said Cyborg. Jinx's eyes darkened slightly. A sadness seemed to flow over her.

"You could've been one of us…"

"And you know what, you could be one of _us_," said Cyborg with a smile. He patted her once on the shoulder as he walked by her. "Think about it."

Beast Boy nervously glanced at the girl before quickening his steps to catch up to the others. Jinx didn't move as she watched the four of them leave. Beast Boy was a bit surprised that they were going out without a fight, but he was thankful. He wasn't sure if he had the heart to fight right now.

Cyborg had parked the T-Car near the hotel that Raven and Starfire had been staying at while they waited on standby. With another hologram, Cyborg had camouflaged the car to look like a normal civilian car – looking a bit on the junky side, in fact. It was Beast Boy's turn to sit in the front, but he didn't really want to sit next to Cyborg right now. He felt too bad about the whole thing.

So, without a word he took his usual seat in the back and shut the door, leaning on the door with his elbow to look out the window. There was a deep churning inside his stomach. He felt sick. He really needed a cold glass of soy milk to sooth his stomach.

The car ride home was quiet – the all permeating silence seemed to drill into Beast Boy's head. It was so loud that he was going crazy. But he couldn't bring himself to break it. His mouth was going dry. Had he completely ruined their chance at saving Robin? Would their friend be stuck forever because of his single stupid mistake?

The mere possibility of that fact was more than Beast Boy's young heart could handle.

"A–am I in trouble?" stammered Beast Boy the second they walked into the main room of Titans Tower. He felt instantly stupid for asking that – of _course_ he was in trouble; but with the group being so quiet the entire way home, he just couldn't handle the silence anymore. He thought he was going to burst. He totally screwed up and he wished someone would get the scolding over and done with. He honestly expected some snide remark from Raven and he really hated the disappointed look Cyborg had given him in the H.I.V.E.

Oh man, he seriously wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

It was his fault. They might've gotten a little lead, but what if there had been more? He totally messed up. He always messed up. It just wasn't fair!

Beast Boy's lips began to tremble.

"Look, I totally get that I screwed up, but I really didn't mean to. Really, I'm really sorry guys," said Beast Boy, running a hand through his hair once; the words pouring from his mouth like a torrent. "I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry. It's—"

He was cut off instantly by a hard hand ruffling his hair. Beast Boy managed to look to see Cyborg smirking down on him.

"Seriously, little dude. Chill. You did just fine," said Cyborg; his hand seeming to endlessly ruffle Beast Boy's green hair.

"Re–really?"

"Yeah, in fact, I totally didn't expect you to last the first week," said Cyborg with a smirk. "But, you proved me wrong and lasted not one but two. Good job, BB. What, you seriously haven't been worrying about this the whole way home, have you?"

Beast Boy honestly wanted to shout that _of course_, he'd been worrying the entire time and that, in fact, he'd been going _crazy_ with worry. But he didn't. He wasn't sure if he should take that first comment as a compliment or an insult, but he decided on the former since he _did_ last two weeks, after all. His ears perked up happily.

"And we got a small lead in the end. Even if we hadn't, it still wouldn't change the fact that you did pretty good, little man," said Cyborg in an approving tone.

Beast Boy beamed.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Six: Tempers – It's always a sign of approaching trouble when the local old man does something unusual in his morning routine.

**Author's Notes: **So, I've messed with the ages of the Teen Titans. Since Robin is fourteen and a half at the start of this story, I thought it best to arrange all the ages. I just couldn't imagine Beast Boy anywhere near Robin's age. He's probably older in canon, but to his… credit, he doesn't act like it. XD So, until I figure out how to add the ages directly into the story, they are as follows: Robin – 14 1/2, Raven – 15, Cyborg – 17, Starfire – 15, Beast Boy – 12 3/4. These ages are at the start of the story. Since time progresses, obviously this changes.

Aheh, yeah the girls are older than Robin. I do have a reason for that, even if it doesn't actually occur in this story. Perhaps, a few oneshots will be in order afterwards. Hehehehe…

Also, my health isn't doing as good as I'd like it to, so I'll be taking a week off. Rest assured, though, the next Monday I'll return to my normal updates. The next three chapters are some of my favorite middle chapters; I'm quite excited. ^^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on **Monday, June 10th**! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	26. Tempers

**Author's Note:** And I'm back and feeling better! ^-^ Fun week ahead, my friends. Thanks for all the support, honoring reviews, and now here's the start to what I hope will be a fun week of updates!

This Wednesday, June 12th, my short story will be available on amazon for free. I wrote that short story three years, and so my writing style and growth have drastically changed since then; but hey, it's free and I hope that you'll all try to get it. ^-^ Link is available on my profile; I'll also provide a link with Wednesday's update.

So, I have an interesting idea after seeing something way past cool on Good Reads. Come to find out, there are a couple of fanfiction books available – for free, of course – on Good Reads in the form of a Kindle book format or in a PDF. It got me thinking that once I finish this, I'll do the same. The Kindle version would be far more edited – especially the early chapters; combined, whatnot – with concept sketches and a slightly updated cover. So then, if anyone wanted to reread again, they could do it without the need of the internet. ^-^

So, should be fun in the future. Gotta love the 21st century. XD

To **Random Reader:** I'm so glad you and your little sister are enjoying my story. I do love that line, too! ^-^ You know, that's an idea I actually forgot about. I wonder if I could fit that in… Would be interesting to see poor Dick's reaction to that. If I can't squeeze it into what I have now, then I'll definitely have to try a oneshot with it. Thank you so much for reading and I send hellos to both you and your little sister. ^_^

To **Anonymous**: Haha, I have to say that I love this version of Wintergreen myself. I do laugh all the time at what he says when I write him – especially when's he going up against Slade. LOL! I'm glad you feel that my story isn't depressing, because it's definitely not meant to be. Yes, there are moments where Dick will be depressed, but the overall story is actually a message of hope – I hope. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Tempers**

**November 12th, 2008. Wednesday, 7:04 am.**

The morning seemed bright that day – although, Dick wouldn't know since he wasn't allowed outside ever. He'd like to think it was a bright day. But somehow, he felt a little more irritable than normal. Even if he could've seen the bright morning sunlight and the sparkling blue sky, he doubted it would've made him feel any better. The slight tickle in his throat that he had been experiencing for the past few day was getting worse and he was feeling a bit sluggish; but after his shower, he began to feel a little bit better.

The tickle was still there, though; he seriously hoped he wasn't getting sick on top of everything.

It had been almost two weeks since Slade found out about his… phobia. Dick didn't really like admitting that it was a phobia, but he knew it was best that he accept it as such. Slade had told him that accepting his fear would be the first step to gaining control over it.

So, Slade was careful with Dick. Every day, Dick was forced to look at guns for a few minutes and learn about them. He wasn't forced to touch them, yet; but Slade told him that with time it would come. Dick was thankful that the man was taking it all slow. He knew some techniques would be to immerse him in it, but thankfully Slade was taking the slow and easy route – so Dick would gradually get used to them.

Thank goodness for that.

It was strange how much time was passing for Dick. It'd been two months since he came to be here underneath Slade's control; and for the first month, it had felt like that. Dick had felt like a captive, beaten down by his abductor – feeling that he had someone he had to fight against.

However, during the more recent month, everything changed.

Despite where he was and who he was with, life had seemed more normal – perhaps, even like the days with Bruce and Alfred. But there was a difference in feeling and Dick wasn't sure what it was. No, it wasn't the fact that he couldn't leave and that he was forced to be with these two men. There was just something else that felt different.

Slade and Bruce were two different kinds of people. Both had their similarities, but they did have contrasting differences – and it wasn't their occupations nor their morals that Dick was comparing.

Both men were dominate, both demanded total obedience, and both made _very_ well sure that Dick obey without willfulness. Dick was also very afraid of both men; not that he'd tell either one that fact – although, he was pretty sure that Slade knew. Dick also knew of each man's power in a very personal way being trained by both; and each were terrifying beyond anything when furious.

Bruce was very cool and collect in his mannerisms. He spoke in low and short tones; most of the time sounding sharp. His mere presence was intimidating at times. Dick couldn't recall ever hearing Bruce genuinely laugh or even chuckle once in the five years he had stayed with him. Bruce also demanded perfection. When Dick hadn't been able to do a move just right, Bruce would train him until he reached perfection. But it never seemed like Dick could ever master anything perfectly; thus, there were times he had felt Bruce's disappointment, even if he never outright said anything.

Slade was impassive much of the time, controlling most of his emotions; however, he did smirk a lot – as if planning something mischievous. Slade's voice, much of the time, was smooth and even coaxing in nature. Dick had seen the man chuckle a few times as well. Slade didn't, however, require perfection from Dick. He did require Dick's best, though; and expected him to improve every time. Dick always seemed to have the man's approval, except when he mouthed off.

There was nothing soft about Bruce. Dick had never experienced any kind of affection from him. Dick had always gotten the impression that Bruce just didn't know how to offer such things, so he learned not to try to expect it or push for it. After living in a very loving and affectionate home and then to come to someone like Bruce, it had been as if Dick had been plunged into ice water.

It wasn't to say that Slade was exactly soft and fuzzy – because he obviously wasn't – but there was something warm to the man, especially now. There were many times that he offered physical support in the form of a shoulder clasp or a pat on the back as if it came second nature to him; and there was something comforting about the touch, something almost nostalgic about it. It gave Dick a small reminder of his days with his parents – certainly nowhere near that same warm feeling; but just a gentle, light, brushing reminder.

Interestingly enough, there was something more… _parental_ to Slade – dare Dick say it – and Dick found himself responding differently to the man because of it. It was almost as if Slade had been a parent before, but there was no way of knowing that. The man seemed to just _know_ things more – far more than Bruce had ever known. When Slade slid into his more controlled role with Dick, it was becoming more and more apparent to him.

But that frightened Dick.

He couldn't allow himself to become dependant on the man for any emotional needs. But Dick was well aware that as time continued to pass without the companionship of his friends, that he would more easily turn to Slade for such things. But he couldn't; that was what the man wanted, wasn't it? To trap Dick physically, mentally, and emotionally – then, it would be all that harder for him to escape.

It was a trap; a trick, wasn't it? It was crafted by Slade, for Slade's purpose, no doubt. The man was a mastermind at things like this; the best in the world. Of course he was manipulating everything. There was no way he wasn't carefully and perfectly setting the trap for Dick to fall in.

And somehow, deep down in Dick's heart he knew that he'd fall right into it. His greatest weakness – far more than the just a small little phobia, like the fear of guns – was simple human kindness. Whenever Slade offered physical encouragement through a clasp on the shoulder or otherwise, it always seemed to unravel Dick in a positive way; the stress, the tight knot in his stomach – everything loosened up inside. But it wasn't exactly a good thing to keep him emotionally apathetic to the man.

How long would it be before Dick completely gave in? Did the man really realize that by becoming softer with him it would sway Dick easier? Wintergreen was the one who gave Slade the advice, probably. Wintergreen seemed to know everything when it came to relationships. Was he the mastermind in all this? But Dick could perceive the old man's heart and there was nothing but kindness and pure intentions inside. Perhaps, Slade didn't realize the effects of his actions now. But surely Slade was aware…

So, the true question was: how long would Dick last before he became completely and emotionally attached?

Once that happened… Dick was as good as Slade's; it'd be almost impossible to escape – in fact, he could already feel such things tugging at his heart now. Would he be lost forever once he reached that point? There was no stopping it, Dick knew all too well; but, even in that moment, would he still be able to stand for his ideals, for his beliefs, for his morals? Would Slade be able to completely drag him down into the darkness?

Dick couldn't help but pray not.

His thoughts were clouded as he walked down the hallway that morning and entered the kitchen. He stood at the entrance for a few moments, running a hand through his ungelled hair and thinking heavily, when he saw Wintergreen hard at work preparing breakfast. Dick stopped and raised an eyebrow. There was something a little different about the old man and he wasn't sure what it was at first.

Well, maybe it was because he wasn't preparing the usual type of breakfast.

There were a number of types of vegetables on the table. There were two cutting boards and a colander of freshly washed tomatoes, carrots, grapes, celery, and cucumbers. There were also some black beans, olives, avocados, and a few hard boiled eggs on the table. Lastly, there was a large mixing bowl. Dick raised his eyebrow. That was a huge amount of vegetables if ever he saw before – looked like the produce section at a grocery store. Seriously, where'd Wintergreen get all this stuff?

"Um… Good morning, Mr. Wintergreen," said Dick. "What… are you doing?"

Wintergreen looked up at Dick and his expression darkened slightly. Dick got the strange impression that the man wasn't feeling perfectly well. There were dark bags beneath his aged hazel eyes and the light in his eyes were clouded slightly as well.

"_Child!_" cried Wintergreen, almost hysterically. Dick flinched from the old man's unusual sharp tone; becoming a little apprehensive. There was something nerve racking in Wintergreen's tone. The old man was a different force to be reckoned with – he had that glint in his eyes. He was the one, after all, who started the nonsense of… _that_. The way he was looking at Dick made him feel wary and have a good mind to trend carefully around him. He also wished the old man would come up with a different way of addressing him.

"Um… yes, sir?" said Dick. "Did I do something wrong… or something?"

"No, no, no," said Wintergreen in that same sharp tone; waving his hand dismissively. Dick noticed that the man's voice sounded a bit hoarse and scratchy. "Come sit down. You're going to help me."

"O–okay then," said Dick; slowly walking over to the table while keeping a sharp eye on the old man. He was about to sit down in a chair, but Wintergreen stopped him with a stern click of his tongue.

"Not that chair, child. _This_ chair," said Wintergreen, exasperated; firmly tapping the chair in front of himself. Dick raised an eyebrow before obeying without another word. He wasn't sure what was going on, but Wintergreen was acting very strangely. Was he a bit snippier than normal?

Wintergreen tapped the chopping board. "Chop the vegetables for me."

Dick nodded and grabbed one of the knives that were on the table, but he was stopped once again with that clicking noise of the old man's tongue.

"Not _that_ knife. Use _this_ knife," said Wintergreen, still sounding thoroughly exasperated. Dick seriously wanted to open his mouth and tell the old man that the two knives were exactly the same; but with a sigh, he humored him.

Thus, Dick changed knives and grabbed one of the tomatoes. He sliced it in half and then in quarters. As he began to slice the quarters into strips, he heard that same clicking noise from the old man's tongue. Now _that_ was beginning to grate on Dick's nerves.

"Good grief, child. Don't you know how to chop a tomato?" snapped Wintergreen. Dick bit back a retort as he watched the old man take the knife away. It was okay. Maybe Wintergreen was off this morning. Dick could stay in control; no reason to backtalk – biting his tongue, literally, was quite helpful; hopefully his tongue wouldn't get cut from his teeth. Dick watched the old man grab another tomato and begin to slice it the _same exact way_ that Dick had been slicing it.

Well, that just slipped Dick over the edge.

"With all due respect, sir," began Dick, not quite in his most respectful tone. "That's exactly how I was slicing it."

Without warning, he was grabbed by the ear and forcibly lifted to his feet. Dick winced, but struggled against the hold; trying very hard to pull away from the man's firm grasp. Alarm pumped through his chest once he figured out what the old man was up to. Well, he was not going to put up with this – there was just no way. It was obvious with that stern glint in the old man's eye what his objective was and Dick sure as heck wasn't going to make it easy for him. He wasn't doing anything wrong anyways! He was just slicing a freaking tomato for crying out loud!

"What is going on in here?" came Slade's curious, smooth voice. A mixture of relief and apprehension flooded through Dick at the sound of the man's voice. Slade would either be his rescuer or he'd be Wintergreen's accomplice and Dick seriously hoped it was the former.

"Slade!—_Child_, hold _still_ and take what's coming to you!" snapped Wintergreen, turning his attention to Slade once before returning it to Dick with a fierce glare; almost shaking Dick once by the ear as he did so.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" protested Dick; in no way allowing the old man to get near his target. He winced at the terribly firm hold the old man had on his earlobe; pain shooting through the rest of his ear from the harsh pinch. Who knew the old man had such a frightening grip?

"Will, what are you doing?" asked Slade seriously with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm trying to make breakfast. What does it look like?" snipped Wintergreen, lightly shaking Dick once again. Slade tilted his head to the side, his grey blue eye flicking over Dick and then the vegetables.

"Will," began Slade, slowly drawing out the old man's name carefully. "How're you feeling?"

Dick stopped struggling to stare at Slade with an incredulous look. _'How're you feeling?'?!_ Was that really Slade's question? Oh gosh, Dick had better get this over with; Slade was obviously going to be of no help. This was seriously not fair at all; he was _doomed_.

"I'm feeling fine."

"I don't suppose," started Slade lightly, "those bags under your eyes are any indication that you were up for most of the night."

"I was not," snapped Wintergreen.

"Your voice is a bit hoarse. How's your throat?"

"I'm not hoarse. My throat's just fine, thank you."

"Will." Slade shook his head, taking a step closer to the old man and Dick. "You only make your massive, colossal salad for breakfast when you're sick. You _are_ sick, aren't you?"

"I'm perfectly healthy, thank you, Slade. There's no need for you to—"

"You're sick, Will. You need to go back to bed," said Slade, approaching the old man as if he were a potentially dangerous wild animal. "You need some rest."

"I'm not tired."

"You should probably let the boy go. Wasn't he helping you?" asked Slade; lifting his hand to rest on Dick's shoulder. Dick felt Slade gently pulling him back away from Wintergreen. The old man didn't let him go at first; but then, _finally_, the grasp on his earlobe was released. Dick quickly retreated away from the old man, coming close to Slade; thoroughly thankful that the man had saved him from Wintergreen – which was a funny thought, if one was to think about it. The relief flowed over him and Dick found himself putting a hand to his ear to rub the painful pinch from it.

"I'm not tired," said Wintergreen, a little too quickly.

"Go to bed, Will. You're dangerous when you're sick," said Slade with a wry smile. His hand was still on Dick's shoulder and Dick felt a small squeeze. "Very dangerous, I might add."

"_I am not_."

Dick's eyes flittered between the two men; intrigued by the current event now that he was out of the path of danger. Slade only gave the old man a sharp knowing look. Wintergreen sighed lightly, rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

"How long have you been sick without telling me?" asked Slade.

"A day or so," admitted Wintergreen softly. Slade gave him a hard look and Wintergreen sighed again. "All right. So, it's been about a week now. I've been taking some antibiotics and vitamins in the hopes that it'll kick it quickly. I don't know, perhaps I'm just getting older."

"Go get some rest, Will," said Slade, placing his other hand on Wintergreen's shoulder. "You should've told us when you weren't feeling good. It's perfectly normal to need rest when you're sick. Dick and I can take care of ourselves just fine for a few days."

"But—"

"We'll finish the salad," said Slade, his tone rising to speak over Wintergreen's voice. "You go rest and I'll bring you a bowl when we're done."

Wintergreen sighed in defeat and nodded. "All right. All right; you win, Slade."

Slade merely smirked. "I always do."

Wintergreen harrumphed lightly before he walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Slade sighed and shook his head; the hand on Dick's shoulder withdrawing.

"I should've known this was going to happen sooner or later. I thought he'd been acting a little strangely," said Slade, sounding almost tired. Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Oh, he's fine," said Slade with wry smirk. "He just gets this way when he's sick. He gets a bit more particular about things. When he makes a giant salad for breakfast, it's a dead giveaway that he's pretty sick."

"A bit more?" demanded Dick incredulously. "He wanted me to change knives, but they were the _same_ exact type of knife. Then, he wanted me to change the way I was chopping the tomato. Tried to show me how to do it – Slade, it was _exactly_ the same way I had been doing it."

"I suppose you pointed that out?" asked Slade with a lifted eyebrow. Dick nodded. "And then that's when—Mmm, I thought so. Well, it looks like I rescued you from the old man's hard hand, hm?"

Dick folded his arms and looked away; in no way dignifying that with an answer. That got him a few chuckles from Slade.

"Come on, let's fix this oversized sin of salad already. Looks like this is what we're getting for breakfast today," said Slade, temporarily placing a hand on Dick's head before turning to the table and sitting in a chair next to him. Dick fought against the urge to run a hand through his hair. It had almost felt like an affectionate ruffle of his hair; but he tried to ignore it and sat down again.

"All right, you slice the grapes into quarters."

Dick shot the man an incredulous look.

"Say _what?_"

"You heard me," said Slade; a smile tugging at his mouth as he grabbed an avocado and began to slice it in half around the seed.

"You want me to slice grapes? What kind of idiot _slices_ grapes?"

"Respect, boy," said Slade in a suggesting drawl. "Will prefers them that way and it's in your best interest to please him. Wouldn't you agree with that?"

Dick grumbled lightly and began the tedious work of slicing the washed grapes that were in the colander. There were a lot of them. He looked over at Slade as he scooped the seed out of the avocado and then began to slice the avocado while in the skin; first vertical then horizontal.

It was strange to see Slade doing such a simple task like preparing a salad. Dick just honestly couldn't imagine the criminals he knew slicing an avocado like no tomorrow. It just was odd seeing the man do something so… something so…

So human; so normal.

If Slade was so normal, then why was he the person that he was? Why did he make his living killing people? Why couldn't he have chosen something else? What was really so different with being an assassin from someone in the FBI or Secret Service? It almost felt to Dick that the man was wasting his potential for good. Slade was powerful; he could truly make a difference in other people's lives.

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"You just did, but I'll humor you with another," said Slade with a wry smirk; scooping his sliced avocado out of the skin and into the giant bowl. He then moved onto two sticks of celery and began chopping them expertly.

"Why do you do the things you do?" asked Dick. "Why would you choose to be a criminal? Why would you choose to be a killer for a living? I doubt anything could stop you from achieving anything you wanted so I just can't understand why you'd choose those things; why you like doing those things."

"Your thinking is warped," said Slade, not looking up from his chopping. "Not everyone is the Joker, you know; completely insane, one who delights in blood. Most criminals have their own motives, their own reasoning to why they do the things they do. Some, yes, are so hardened that one could consider them completely evil and lost to humanity; but others have an exact purpose in their designs."

There was a quiet moment as the two of them continued to chop. That didn't really answer Dick's questions. There wasn't anything in life that Slade couldn't obtain through conventional methods – Dick was very aware of that. It was more than obvious that Slade was an extremely wealthy man. He was beyond intelligent and physically the best.

So, why?

Dick took a deep breath as he looked up at Slade.

"What are _your_ motives, then?" asked Dick. "Why do you want an apprentice? Why do you want _me?_"

Dick had lessened his tone to a soft whisper as he asked the last question. Slade merely observed him for a moment; the only sounds that floated through the room were the _chop, chop_ of the knives.

"Why does anyone do anything in life?" said Slade in response.

"I dunno," shrugged Dick. "To satisfy their own desires, I guess. To be powerful, rich, famous – whatever worldly desires there are."

"Good answers, but not quite," said Slade in a low tone. He stopped his work and leaned forward; a wry smirk lifting the edge of his mouth. His grey blue glinted with light – a light Dick hadn't ever seen before.

"_For the thrill_," breathed Slade. He leaned back as he continued to smirk at Dick. He then elaborately shrugged with his hands. "Why does anyone do anything? For the thrill of it; the mere enjoyment of it. Why does an artist paint? For the thrill of watching the canvas develop into something that was not there before. Why does a novelist write? For the thrill of saying something that was not said before or the same message in a way that had not been done before."

Dick's mouth went dry. That was true and all, but it sounded as if Slade was justifying the acts of stealing and killing simply because he enjoyed the mere _thrill_ it gave him. Was it really all that simple?

"So, you kill people because you get some thrill out of it?" began Dick in a low whisper. His voice rose in volume as he continued. "That's the same excuse drug addicts give to justify their addiction to harmful drugs."

"That's completely different, Dick, and you know it," said Slade with a shake of his head. "Drugs make the body dependant on them and alter the brain chemistry. Shooting someone does not."

"Of course it does," snapped Dick. "It's basically the same thing, isn't it? The more you kill, the easier it gets; the more desensitized you get. I'm sure you could get that same thrill from a drug. But instead, you rather shoot someone and deprive their family of their loved one!"

"Dick—"

"You said you joined the army because it was exciting," continued Dick, no longer careful with his tones. "Was it because you enjoyed killing people even then?"

"Of course the army was exciting," said Slade, his grey blue eye flashing once dangerously. "But I've told you before, war is purgatory. I simply wanted to serve my country."

Dick scoffed elaborately. "What kind of bull crap is that? I bet that's just some cover up for your real desires. You just wanted an excuse to shoot people and war was the best place to do it. Now you just do it anyways without needing a war."

Slade stood up; his grey blue eye flashing dangerously.

"And wait a minute," snarled Dick heatedly, looking down at the table as the anger began to lick his insides; not at all noticing Slade's recent movement. "So, you're all about the thrills, right? Am I just a part of this _thrill _that you need to have? Does having me in your control give you some kind of _high_ or something? _Why do you really want me?!_"

Slade growled deeply; the sound nearly rumbling through the room. Dick flinched by the man's terrible tone and suddenly noticed that the man was standing up. Dick scrambled to his feet and backed away; extremely frightened by the man's fury. He swallowed nervously; his throat protesting lightly in its soreness. His stupid tongue had gotten away with him and now Slade looked terrifying.

He was so dead.

Slade took a step towards Dick, but then he stopped suddenly. The man closed his eye and looked upward; obviously trying to reel back his fury. He clenched his fist and leaned it against the door of a cabinet. Then, his fingers popped up one by one as if he were counting. Once he reached to five, his opened hand curled back stiffly – almost claw like – into a fist again. He repeated the process once more. His other hand clenched and unclenched at his hip. Finally, he brought the hand up to his face; rubbing the fur on his chin as he continued to rest his other hand on the cabinet. Dick was watching him wide eyed. The man was really trying hard to hold his temper – and he was succeeding, too.

Then, the man open his eye and set its sharp grey blue color onto Dick.

Dick suddenly had the feeling he wasn't going to like was going to happen next.

Slade marched to him in an instant. Dick didn't even have time to contemplate darting away. He was grabbed and sharply turned to the side. Dick winced as the first strike came to his seat. He wasn't prepared for the second one and he was certainly not prepared for the third that cracked against his seat; making him jump slightly both times. These strikes were harder than normal and his seat buzzed lightly in pain with the sting. Then, he was forced back to face Slade; the man's hands firmly clasping his shoulders.

"I keep telling you to mind your tongue," said Slade in a low, dangerous undertone. "Forget again and we'll make this a complete trip. Do you understand me?"

Dick nodded quickly; biting his tongue so he didn't say anything stupid.

"Now," began Slade sharply, shaking Dick once lightly. "I do _not_ get some sort of sick, twisted _thrill_ from having you in my procession. How dare you even suggest such a thing. I want _you_ as my apprentice and no one else. It's as simple as that. Don't go complicating things. It'll get you into trouble, as you can see."

Dick remained silent as the man sternly lectured him; still biting his tongue. He really didn't like it when the man did that – it drove him crazy, actually. He always felt that Slade was the one at fault and had no right to be teaching him right from wrong or whatever. The man was a freaking _criminal_, after all. Who was he to say whether or not Dick needed to show respect? What had the man done to deserve such respect anyways?

But somehow, deep down, Dick knew he deserved this one. He'd been out of line with some the comments. But still, Slade had and did kill people. But Dick knew he shouldn't have said anything. It hadn't been appropriate. He should just keep his mouth shut; things went better that way, after all. And, no; it wasn't his stinging backside that was convincing him of that.

"Remember this; you're not just some stupid thrill. You are my apprentice and my heir," continued Slade, sounding thoroughly irritated. Then, his visible eye took on a dangerous light, sending a chill down Dick's back.

"And another thing," snapped Slade, shaking Dick by the shoulders once more. "Don't you dare assume that I enjoy war and death; because _I don't_. I'm telling you right now war is horrific. Your innocent mind can't even begin to fathom the terrible things that happened during that time. You think what you saw in Gotham was bad? War is a million times worse. You better learn to understand the difference from a clean bullet to the head, to a landscape simply covered in death."

Dick's stomach chilled at Slade's words. He swallowed once, suddenly feeling even more ashamed by his words. He averted his eyes and bit his lower lip. He hadn't realized all that. Sure he knew _some_ things about war, but Slade made it seem all real; all terrible. Words wanted to slip from his mouth, but he couldn't manage them. He wanted to apologize, but it just seemed as they were sealed inside his throat. How was it that Slade was in the right and Dick was in the wrong? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

"Now, let's hurry and finished making this blasted breakfast so we can stop with the short tempers. Food usually solves everything," said Slade, now sounding completely exasperated as he pushed Dick forward towards the table. "Good grief; first Will, now you – what next?"

Dick only nodded, thankful for the escape, as the hands on his shoulders withdrew themselves. He hurried to the table and sat down; grabbing the nearest vegetable, a cucumber, and beginning to chop it. He wiggled once in his seat. A moment later, he heard Slade sigh behind him and let out a low whisper.

"Why do I have this foreboding feeling today is going to be a _long_ day…"

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Seven: Cooking Troubles – While trying to be helpful, Dick comes across a little difficulty when attempting to cook dinner for the residents of the haunt.

**Author's Notes:** Haha, Slade had to deal with a snappy, hot headed kid. Honestly, should've thought of that before you kidnapped him. Aaah, the joys of parenting. XD

I bet Slade's gonna shoot me for that comment now. *hides*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	27. Cooking Troubles

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for always reading and for reviewing! ^-^ You all make me enjoy writing a whole lot more.

So, Amazon is interesting. It just so happens that Amazon has certain days where it won't allow a free day for a book. It different for each book, my publisher says, and my 'black out' day just so happens to fall onto today. XD What are the odds? So, free day has been changed to this **Friday, June 14th**. It's all put into the system, so this will definitely happen this round. So sorry for the mix up, guys. But Amazon decided to be a little troublemaker. Ah well, we roll with it, hm? ^^

I just found out that TTs' wikia says that Robin was 17 when he left Batman. I was like, "No way in _heck_ that spiky-haired punk is 17+. That alone insults my intelligence." XD I mean, seriously… He totally looks like a kid! _C'mon!_ This information blows my mind. I hereby ban it out of my brain.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Cooking Troubles**

**November 12th, 2008. Wednesday, 6:07 pm.**

The rest of the day had been pretty average, except for the fact that Wintergreen was absent through most of it. Slade made a simple lunch of sandwiches before he continued with the schedule. Dick was tired through much of the day, but he didn't say anything. The tickle in his throat was quickly becoming sorer.

Yup, Dick figured he was getting sick, too. But he could endure it. The cold wasn't bad – hopefully he wouldn't have to cough through it too much. He really didn't want Slade to notice it. Dick was worried, though. If he really did get pretty sick, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to handle it. Alfred always flatly told him after dealing with him while getting over a virus or cold that he was the most difficult thing to grace his presence upon the planet.

Dick really didn't need Slade to see that side of himself. The man would strangle him, probably.

Slade had given him some free time since something came up with a contract. The man was currently in his room. Dick wasn't really sure what to do at that moment. Slade probably would be busy for awhile and Wintergreen wasn't in any condition to do anything. So, there was no one else to prepare something for dinner.

Dick felt the need to do something helpful. He usually loved the feeling of helping others – like with his crime fighting. But here with Slade and Wintergreen there wasn't ever a chance for that. For a moment, Dick supposed that Slade was right – people really did do things for the thrill.

But there was a difference between the thrill of something for excitement or pleasure and the feeling that you got inside your heart when doing nice things for the sole sake of being nice or helpful.

Thus, Dick found himself inside the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets in search of something to make for dinner. He wasn't exactly the world's greatest chef, but he did pretty good for himself. Honestly, it didn't take much skill to fry up some eggs in a pan or toss some ham into the oven. Surely, there was something he could whip up around here.

But as Dick looked through the cabinets, he didn't really find anything that interested him. It was then that he caught sight of some blue boxes of pasta. He pulled one out of the lower cabinet and read the label. It said Rotelle and the pasta inside was in the shape of corkscrews.

Smiling with his find, he grabbed a second box and a plastic jar of pasta sauce. Well, that just decided it: he was making pasta for everyone. He went into motion – grabbing a large pot, a metal colander, and a lid from beneath the countertop. He turned on the hot water and waited it to heat up before filling the pot with water.

With the colander inside the pot, Dick carried the sloshing hot water to the stovetop. Once he got the gas fire going, he grabbed the salt shaker from the table and sprinkled a heavy pinch into the water. Finally, he placed the lid on top. Then, he turned away, putting his hands on his hips; eye searching through the kitchen.

He needed something more.

Dick walked to the fridge and looked inside; hoping that Wintergreen had some kind of meat. What was pasta without some meat? Luckily, he found some fresh ground beef and with a happy smile, he pulled it out of the fridge.

Soon, there was another pan on the stovetop – now sizzling ground beef inside. Dick used a large mixing spoon to keep the ground beef from burning. He was quickly content with his tasks. It was nice doing something simple. During the past two months that he had been here, he never really had the chance to feel completely normal. It always felt like a major boarding school. There were quiet moments, but it still felt like a school.

Just cooking seemed like a small relief from everything. Yeah, he had the free time and yeah, there had been that day where Wintergreen forced Slade and Dick to spend the day together doing nothing except games; but overall, it still felt extremely abnormal and rigid.

And he was getting to do something nice for another person – even if that included Slade; it didn't matter.

The water in the pot was finally up to a rapid boil now, and so Dick set the lid aside and opened the two boxes of pasta. He quickly dumped them into the pot one after another. With another mixing spoon, he stirred the pasta carefully so that it wouldn't stick together.

Soon after, the meat looked done and Dick turned off the heat. He left it on the stovetop, though, to keep it warm. As he waited for the pasta to finish cooking, he stirred it occasionally. The pasta slowly began to expand and become larger within the pot. A few minutes later, Dick was testing one of the noodles; carefully cooling one and popping it into his mouth.

Perfect.

Dick shut off the fire and began to search through the drawers for some hot pads. He found some flat ones and grabbed two. He grabbed the edges of the colander and prepared himself to lift it up to place into the sink so that he could rinse the pasta.

Everything was going great until the steam puffed up in a large, misty mushroom shaped cloud – right over Dick's exposed fingers. It passed over his hands, a burning heat washing over his skin. Then, the pain came. It surprised him so much that he dropped the colander back into the boiling water.

That wasn't exactly his best idea.

The weight of the drop caused a small splash which sloshed over Dick's shirt. The terribly hot water burned his skin. He couldn't help it – he screamed. Oh _crap_, it hurt – _badly_. Once he got a hold of himself, gritting his teeth furiously, he quickly shed his shirt and with erratic breathing, checked the damage.

There was a patch of angry red skin on his stomach, along with a few multiple smaller patches near the area.

Well, this was working out just… peachy.

Dick whirled around and looked up nervously as he heard a door slam. Oh gosh. He seriously hoped he hadn't woken up the old man with his screams. He was just trying to help – not cause more trouble. But the alarmed face that showed up at the hallway entrance was not Wintergreen, but Slade. The man had concern flashing in his grey blue eye; his eyebrows furrowed.

"Dick, what on earth…" Slade trailed off as he glanced down at his stomach. Dick automatically curled his arms around his chest, feeling embarrassed and self conscious with his shirt off. He had a handful of scars, but that was just his front – not including the bullet wounds from the Joker. His back… was a whole other story. He rubbed his arm nervously, trying very hard to think properly through the burning stinging pain that raged the skin on his stomach and on the surface of his hands.

"Um…"

Slade folded his arms as he stared at the burned area.

"Dick, what are you doing?"

Dick continued to nervously rub his arm. "Um… I was trying to make some pasta for dinner. You know… to help out… I guess," ended Dick lamely.

"And you decided to add yourself as an entrée, is that it?" asked Slade, thoroughly smirking at him. Dick rolled his eyes.

"Very funny. No."

"Explain."

Dick sighed with a shrug. "I was pulling the pasta out with the colander when the steam hit my hands and burned them. That surprised me so like the brilliant idiot I am, I drop it back into the pot. Boiling water all down my front. The end."

"Enlightening story," drawled Slade, walking up to him. He leaned down to inspect the burns on his stomach. Dick turned his head away, his eyes watering from the incessant stinging and feeling weird without his shirt on. He didn't like the feeling of being unprotected in front of Slade. He was starting to ease up with the man, but that still didn't mean he trusted him.

Things were changing and Dick was seeing a side to Slade he had never imagined before. Somehow, very slowly he was getting used to him. Ever since the man had said that he wouldn't beat him, he had kept his word. He had not laid one violent hand on Dick, expect in sparring – but even then Dick noticed that the man was holding back more than ever.

But that didn't mean that the man couldn't snap at any time. Dick was sure there would come a time when Slade would lose it with him. The man would certainly revert back to his old ways. He wasn't safe in that way.

It didn't matter, though. Dick didn't really care. It didn't matter at all. It wasn't as if Dick was getting used to the man. It wasn't as if he was beginning to feel a small sense of safety and normalcy again in his life. Not at all. No way.

"You have some nasty burns there, Dick," said Slade, shaking his head. There was a wry smirk that filled his features as he glanced at Dick. "A bit smooth, aren't we?"

A deep flush raged at Dick's face and he tightened his arms around his chest even more.

"H–hey, s–so I'm still waiting on puberty a little bit. I'm only fourteen and—" Dick stopped suddenly as Slade began to chuckle deeply, almost nearly to the point of laughing. The man straightened and shook his head, putting a hand to his forehead. This only made Dick flush even more – if that was possible.

"_Hey!_"

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry. No need to get worked up," said Slade, putting up a hand as he chuckled more. "I understand it's a touchy subject. I was just teasing you, boy. I used to do that all the time to—"

All the mirth that was in Slade's face suddenly vanished as he stopped. Dick had never seen such an instantaneous change in someone's expression before. He had been filled with such amusement before it slid away completely to his normal impassive features.

What had Slade been going to say?

Dick wasn't sure what the man had wanted to say, but he wasn't going to pry. It obviously wasn't a good subject – especially since Dick lacking adult features had been the trigger of it and he honestly didn't want to be the brunt of any more teasing. No, thank you.

The man's grey blue eye narrowed suddenly. His hand slowly moved to Dick's left shoulder. Dick didn't move as the man's hand fingered the small scar that lay there. It was one of the three bullet wound scars that decorated his arm, shoulder, and chest. There was a flicker of emotion that passed through Slade's eye. Dick wasn't sure what it was – remorse, perhaps?

Slade withdrew his hand.

"From the Joker, correct?"

Dick nodded. He pointed to the other two bullet wounds.

"These as well, plus the one on my calf," said Dick. More raw emotion passed over Slade's eye. It puzzled Dick. It was as if Slade didn't like the fact that Dick had been shot. Dick had lived through it – wasn't that all that mattered? But if Slade felt this much about it, Dick hated for the man to see his back. He'd been captured and tortured before that event with the Joker. Batman had been livid about it, but he hadn't forced Dick to quit the job. Batman had merely become extremely and overly protective, which had pushed Dick to disobey and go out by himself; only to get himself shot by the Joker.

But, Dick didn't want that to happen again. He wasn't some kid that needed to be protected. He didn't need Slade to get overly protective – not that he imagined the man to ever become like that, anyways. Besides, he could take care of himself just fine. So he got into a few scraps. Big deal. The scars didn't hold him back.

Dick subconsciously pushed himself back a few paces against the countertop.

Slade raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Oh… nothing," murmured Dick, tightening his arms around his chest and looking down at the ground. Slade frowned and took a step closer to him.

"Dick, what's wrong?"

"It–it's nothing," said Dick quickly, looking back up at Slade. The man didn't look like he believed him. Dick mentally cursed himself for backing up. That just gave the man a red flag. Slade was going to try to figure out what was wrong and Dick really didn't want to show him.

"Dick," drawled out Slade, giving him a look that meant explain. Dick swallowed and shrugged, trying not to wince from the burning on his skin.

"I just have a few scars on my back and I'm self conscious about them," said Dick, trying to sound nonchalant. Slade raised his eyebrow again, his eyes narrowing, and he took another step closer to him.

"Show them to me."

"N–no," said Dick before he could stop himself. Oh, he seriously hope that Slade wouldn't think this was defiance.

"Now, Dick. I've seen it all. There's no reason to feel self conscious about scars."

"Yeah, well; I'd rather keep these to myself, thanks," said Dick, swallowing nervously. He couldn't back up any further. There was no escaping this. Dick knew it and Slade knew it. Slade stepped forward and clasped Dick by his shoulders. Dick closed his eyes as he was forced to turn around. He was sure the man was going to make fun of him over them or insult his abilities for staying out of trouble. He hated the scars. They made his skin look horrible.

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"What in the name…" Slade trailed off; there was another sharp intake of breath. Dick felt the man's finger trail along the top of his shoulder blades, sliding down one of the lines of his scars to his middle back. "Who… Who in the—_Who?!_"

Dick flinched at the sudden change in Slade's tone. He swallowed nervously, feeling unnerved by it. Slade sounded almost… furious about his scars. But why?

"_Who?!_" snapped Slade, almost to the point of shouting.

"T–Two-Face," cried Dick, trembling slightly. "He captured me and… and he…"

"He whipped you."

Dick sucked in his breath. "How… How do you…?"

"You don't think I don't know lash marks when I see them?" demanded Slade, his tone fierce. But then, it seemed to break down. "There's so many…"

"It was one of those flip of the coin days. You know how he is," shrugged Dick, trying to sound as if the whole experience wasn't a big deal. Yet, he could still very clearly remember the white hot lash against his back. It had been like liquid fire against his skin. Not to mention, he never wanted to see Two-Face _ever_ again.

"How could anyone do this to a child?!"

"I'm not a child, Slade!" protested Dick, whirling around and hating being called that. He was _not_ a child. He had proven that much by now. Slade really needed to stop thinking that. "Stop saying that!"

Dick was grabbed by the shoulders; Slade leaned down to glare at him, nearly shaking him.

"_Yes, you are!_" shouted Slade in return. "You _are_ a child. You're fourteen; you have the body of a child; _everything_ about you screams _child!_"

Dick's jaw clenched as it began to tremble, feeling Slade's words permeate through his entire soul. No, he couldn't be a child. He had to be grown up. He had to be strong. A child was weak and Dick couldn't be weak. A child had to depend on adults, but Dick never really had anyone he could truly cling to – so, he long grew out of the mold of a child.

He was Robin, the Boy Wonder, after all.

"And you were younger than twelve when it happened, weren't you?"

Dick turned his head to the side, his lips trembling further.

"_Answer me!_"

"I… I was eleven."

"Are you telling me that an eleven year old isn't a child?" demanded Slade incredulously. "An eleven year old isn't even a teenager!"

"I–I know… Why are you getting so mad about this?" said Dick, beginning to feel uneasy and shifting his weight. He realized the anger that Slade was displaying wasn't towards himself, but he was unnerved and frightened when this man was angry. He didn't like it at all.

Slade withdrew his hold on Dick's shoulders. He took a deep breath and put a hand to his forehead. Dick bit his lips, trying to ignoring the growing sting his stomach and hands were still experiencing. He wrapped his arms around his chest again. There was a moment of quiet between them.

"I am merely appalled and infuriated that this could've happened to a child—to you," said Slade, his tone dropping to soft undertone. "What on earth was that bat doing, drinking coffee?"

Dick felt a rush of anger heat up his chest.

"Don't blame Batman for this! It wasn't his fault; it was mine!"

"Oh?" drawled Slade, his eye narrowing in irritation. "Is that right? So, that bat had no responsibility to keep you safe and protected? I can assure you that something like this would never had happened had you—"

Slade stopped suddenly. He clamped his mouth shut, a sudden wave of sorrow flashing over his face. His jaw tightened as he turned his head to the side. The man took a few deep rising breaths through his nose. Dick was shocked to see a deep remorse – even self hate flow over the man. Dick couldn't have imagined such a look on the man. What could've caused such feelings in him?

Then, a dark light flittered through Slade's eye.

"I am going to kill him."

A chill slid down Dick's back. His eyes widened as he looked up at Slade. It was very apparent in the man's tone that whoever 'him' was would most certainly die. Dick hadn't ever heard this tone before from Slade. It was his most chilling and terrifying tone yet.

It scared Dick to death.

"Wh–who?"

"Who? Two-Face, of course," snapped Slade, looking back at Dick. "A single bullet right in between the eyes will do nicely. Yes, very nicely."

Dick's mouth dropped in shock. "Bu–but he's in Gotham—in jail—on the other side of the country! An–and the Joker almost killed me. Two-Face only tortured me."

"_Only_ tortured you?" cried Slade, his face completely pulled with incredulity. "That's like saying the Joker is _only_ a little bit crazy. I know torture when I see it. I was in Vietnam, remember? What Two-Face did to you was horrific. How _dare_ he do that to a child!"

"Yeah, well; you don't have to kill him," protested Dick. He didn't like the thought of Slade going out and killing anyone in his name, even if it was Two-Face. While it almost heartened him that Slade would be so furious in his defense, he still didn't want the man to kill anyone. "I mean, why him and not the Joker? It doesn't make sense. So, just drop it, okay?"

"You're right," said Slade, almost too quickly. Somehow, Dick took this as a good thing; oh, but he was wrong. "I should take out the Joker while I'm there, too."

Dick could only stare at Slade, his mouth dropping even further. Was the man serious? Was he really going to kill Two-Face and the Joker because of what they did to him? But knowing Slade, the man was _deadly_ serious. And that frightened Dick. He just didn't like the thought of Slade killing anyone. That was wrong; it didn't matter who they were or what they had done – no one had the right to kill.

"Slade, please…" murmured Dick. "Just drop it, okay? It's over and done with. I've moved on. Please? Honestly, you don't have to go out of your way. They're in jail. They're being punished for what they did."

Slade looked down at Dick and his eye softened. He placed a hand onto Dick's shoulder and squeezed it once. Dick looked directly into Slade's eye and saw a glimmer of pride within that grey blue orb.

"You're a strong kid," said Slade, a smile lifting his lips. "A lot of men in Vietnam would've cracked under what you've endured."

Dick's eyes glanced down as his chest glowed from the praise. He was strong – he knew it; but it was nice to hear someone else think so as well.

"Well, we've gone off on a bit of a tangent," commented Slade dryly. "And have completely forgotten the most important topic at hand." Slade nodded to the burns on Dick's stomach. "They hurt, right?"

"Burn like crap, actually," nodded Dick, almost cheerfully. Slade chuckled lightly and held out his hands.

"Show me the other burns," said Slade, motioning his fingers towards himself in beckoning.

Dick uncurled his arms from around his chest and proffered his hands, palms down. The skin on the ends of his fingers were slowly becoming an angry red. They felt hot and the sting – _man_, he _needed_ the stinging to stop. It wasn't fading at all, but building in strength. It was not fun at all. Plus his face was beginning to feel a little warm as well.

Slade grasped him by his wrists strongly, yet with such gentleness, Dick hadn't even imagined it was possible with the man. Slade looked over the burns carefully before letting one of his wrists go while still softly holding the other.

"Come with me. Will has some magical spray for burns like this," said Slade, walking away and pulling Dick carefully with him. Dick just followed the man; although, he raised his eyebrow at his comment.

"Magical?" questioned Dick.

"Yes, he swears it's magical. But as I heal quickly on my own, I never get to try it out," said Slade, pulling him into the bathroom. "They stopped making it, actually. Years ago. Will was in a total uproar over it and bought enough to last two lifetimes, at least."

"If it's so magical, why stop making it?" asked Dick, as he watched Slade begin to rummage through the cabinets in the bathroom.

"I have no idea. Apparently the disease of stupidity is rampant in our society," said Slade, closing the door of the one cabinet before trying a different one. Dick snorted at that. The man's satirical humor was funny when it wasn't directed at him.

"Aha, here we go," said Slade as he pulled out a light blue bottle. Dick eyed it carefully.

"Sunburn Relief Spray?" questioned Dick, noticing that below the title there was another line that said, 'with aloe'. Slade looked at it skeptically.

"I suppose it'll work with steam and boiling water burns, too…" Slade's eye narrowed slightly as he read the back. Dick couldn't hold back the wry thought that was crossing his mind.

"Sure there isn't anything of _you_ in there to make it magical?" asked Dick with a grin. Slade looked down at Dick with a smirk.

"Sorry, there's no 'saliva of Slade' in here. Too bad. I could do that, too. Just have to work it up a bit."

Dick held up his hands hurriedly as the man pretended to work up a spit.

"No, no! That's okay. I'll use the magical sun spray, thank you very much."

Slade chuckled as he motioned for Dick to sit down on the lowered toilet seat. Dick quickly did so, ready for the increasingly painful burns to ease up even if it was only just a little bit. He really hoped the spray would take away some of the sting. His face was getting hotter and his mind was getting fuzzy.

Slade knelt down in front of Dick and shook the bottle harshly. The heat in Dick's face was making him feel slightly disoriented, so he didn't have the time to feel too astonished by the soft way the man was truly helping him with his injury. Slade carefully aimed the spray and began coating his skin with the cool liquid.

Almost instantly, an eased sensation ran over Dick's skin. The stinging faded quickly. He let out a soft satisfied sigh. He felt Slade's fingers rub the spray into his skin and there was more spraying afterward. Then, Slade took Dick's hands and sprayed the burned areas on his fingers. The sting disappeared just as quickly and relief flowed over Dick.

No pain, whatsoever. It really was quite magical. His face was still greatly flushed, however; and he closed his eyes, thankful for the relief from the burns.

"How's that?" asked Slade, after rubbing the last of the spray into Dick's fingers.

"Mmm, perfect. Burns don't burn no more," murmured Dick. Slade raised his eyebrow before setting the bottle onto the countertop of the sink. He slowly reached out towards Dick's forehead and placed a hand on it. Dick was too tired and hazy to notice. In fact, the man's hand felt cool to the touch, easing the flushing in his face; and he found himself leaning into it, sighing in relief again.

"You're hot," said Slade, sounding slightly perplexed.

"Mmhmm…"

The hand moved its location; another one coming as well to fully enclose Dick's flushed cheeks. The cold hands eased the flushness in his face and he sighed contently again. It didn't matter whose hands these were, they were lessening the annoying warmth in his face.

"Did you stay close to the fire while you cooked?" asked Slade as he continued to check Dick's condition.

"Mmmhm…"

"You really did cook yourself up good this time," said Slade with a shake of his head and a light chuckle. He removed his hands and Dick let out a soft, unhappy whimper as the heat returned to his face.

"Come and we'll get you an ice pack," said Slade, helping Dick to his feet. He swayed slightly, not fully understanding what was going on. He wasn't sure why he wasn't feeling well. Was it really because he stood too close to the stove? Oh, right… no – his throat hurt, too. So, it was the cold. No need to mention that…

"Or you could just leave your hands there," murmured Dick, leaning against Slade slightly for support and wishing for the coolness again. He was too unsteady to notice the look of shock that slammed into Slade's face at his comment.

"Now I _really_ know you're out of it," muttered Slade under his breath, not loud enough for Dick to comprehend what he had said.

Slade gently helped Dick back to the kitchen, leading him to settle down in a chair. Slade went to the freezer and pulled out two thin ice packs; handing them to Dick afterward. Dick placed them on his face and sighed happily; although, the ice packs were very cold and he ended up pulling them off occasionally. Dick's mind began to clear as the heat subsided in his face and strength began to flow back through him.

A few moments later, Slade came back into the kitchen with a fresh t-shirt for Dick, who gratefully accepted without a word. He slipped it on before putting the ice packs onto his face again.

While Dick recovered, Slade finished with the pasta; cooling down the pasta with cold water. Soon the table had a dripping colander full of cold pasta. Some of the pasta was sticking together from staying in the pan too long. Then, Slade turned around and observed the stovetop.

"You cooked meat, too," said Slade, sounding a bit amused by the fact.

Dick grinned, taking the ice packs away from his face. His mind felt much clearer now from the ice packs. He was feeling a bit better and the stinging hadn't come back from his burns. That stuff had really worked. His throat was getting rawer, but that wasn't something he couldn't deal with. He felt kind of happy at the moment and surprisingly normal, too.

His tongue loosened as a result.

"Yup, I mean what's pasta without the meat, you know," said Dick with a smile. He stood up, swaying for a brief moment before he gained his balance; and went to the cabinet, pulling out two white medium bowls. He handed one to Slade and continued, "Beast Boy is great and all, but he has got some weird taste in food. Have you ever tasted tofu?" Slade merely shook his head. Dick gave a shudder. "Good, that stuff is nasty. I know a lot of people like it and Asian cultures use it a lot, but they must know how to cook with it. Beast Boy does not."

Slade chuckled at that. He scooped two large spoonfuls of pasta into the bowl, filling it and trading it with Dick; doing the same for the second bowl. He moved to the meat and scooped one large spoonful of that into the bowl he was holding and traded with Dick again.

Once both bowls were filled with pasta and meat, Dick took bowls to the table and Slade looked for the pasta sauce that Dick had laid out on the countertop; having not noticed it right away.

"I dunno how Beast Boy can stand the stuff," continued Dick with a shake of his head, setting the bowls onto the table. Slade finally found the pasta sauce, popped the lid, and commenced pouring a generous amount on each serving.

Dick frowned suddenly. "There's no microwave up here. The food's gonna be cold."

"Which is why," started Slade, taking a bowl in each hand, "we go downstairs. Will hates microwaves and refuses to use one."

"Why?" asked Dick, following after Slade as the man strode to the basement door and began to walk down the stairs.

"Thinks they don't cook food, but fries it," said Slade. "I agree, but I still have one for convenience. There are just some things a microwave can do to make life easier or faster."

Slade stopped suddenly, midway down the first flight of the stairs. Dick hadn't noticed and bumped into the man's firm back. He looked up at him curiously as Slade turned around and smirked down at Dick.

"Forgot something. Go get the cheese."

With a nod, Dick bounded up the stairs with a burst of energy that he probably didn't really have. He tore open the fridge door and grabbed a bag of shredded cheese before running back to the basement stairs. Slade hadn't moved from his spot; but once he saw Dick with his bag of cheese, the man smirked and continued down.

Dick followed Slade all the way down the stairs; passing through the training room and into the family room. Slade passed by the couch and went straight to the small kitchen. Covering a bowl with a paper plate, he placed it into the microwave and set the time to three minutes. He turned around and leaned against the countertop; his arms folded as he observed Dick lightly.

"I tend to avoid eating anything with soy," said Slade. Dick raised his eyebrow, surprised by this statement. Slade chuckled as he watched Dick's reaction.

"Tofu is made from soy. Didn't you know?" asked Slade; an eyebrow raised wryly. Dick scowled and turned his head away.

"I–I knew that…"

"Mmm…"

"So, I forgot!" snapped Dick, whipping his head to look back at Slade. "Give me a break, already. I've got enough information rattling in my brain to remember something like that."

"Yes, well; as I was saying," began Slade, stilling smirking heavily. "I avoid soy. Screws over hormones at times."

"Really?"

"Yes, your green friend shouldn't eat so much of it," said Slade slyly. "Might be _affecting_ him."

Dick considered that, ignoring the obvious snide remark. For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if all that soy wasn't doing Beast Boy any good.

"Do you really think so?" asked Dick. The man looked a little surprised by Dick's sincere question; but then, he shrugged lightly.

"It's possible, but it's more likely to affect female hormones than male. He probably would feel better if he didn't consume so much. Varity is best, actually."

Dick made a mental note that if he ever managed to see his friends again to advise his younger friend against eating so much of the same thing. Maybe his hyperactive ways could tone down a bit.

Maybe…

The microwave finished with the second bowl and soon the two of them were sitting on the couch with piping hot bowls of pasta, each with a generous amount of shredded cheese on top.

"You did a good job," said Slade approvingly as he ate. Dick gave a soft smile, but didn't say anything. He felt pleased that he had done something nice for once; thus, the glow of warmth was delightful in his chest. The need to serve others was imbedded deeply into Dick's core. He loved the feeling he got when he did something nice for someone and today it hadn't mattered who it was.

There was silence for a few moments, but Dick began to not be able to stand it. Thus, he began to talk. There wasn't anything he was really saying, he just felt the need to talk.

And Slade listened.

The man didn't say anything as Dick spoke, but he was very much listening to every word that Dick was saying. Dick talked about his friends and some of their adventures. He spoke of the moments when they fought over what kind of pizza they would order. He spoke of moments when they fought over what late night movie to rent.

Dick also talked about the fun moments they all had when they went to the park to play football. Moments spilled from his lips without Dick even realizing what he was doing.

Then, Dick caught himself suddenly.

He mentally clicked his tongue. His deteriorating health was making him have a loose tongue. He couldn't believe that he was so easily chatting away like this – to Slade so easily. But… It was sort of nice to talk about these things. It had been quite a while since Dick had just simply been happy to chatter about nothing. He rarely got this chance ever, since most of his time was spent studying and training underneath Slade's constant tutelage whether he liked it or not.

"What's wrong, Dick?" asked Slade, tilting his head as he observed Dick.

"You're… You're not annoyed?" asked Dick. The man probably didn't like hearing about the Teen Titans. They were, after all, his enemies and they always did all they could to stop his plans. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"Annoyed? About what?"

"Me talking about my friends," said Dick.

"Why on earth would I be annoyed about that?" asked Slade dubiously, a wry smirk lifting his lips. "You were enjoying yourself for once."

Dick was a little surprised. Slade honestly didn't look or sound annoyed. But wasn't the man trying to make him a criminal? Did criminals really have friends that were on the other side? And what did it matter to Slade if Dick was happy or not?

"I dunno, you seem like you'd want me to break all ties with my friends," said Dick. Slade didn't answer for a moment, considering somewhat. Then, the man shrugged lightly.

"It's of no consequence if you have friends," said Slade. "You'll just be on opposite sides. The real question will be: will they still choose to be your friends when you are no longer like them."

"I won't change sides," said Dick swiftly in a decided tone.

"You will change with time."

"I won't change that. I refuse to."

"Growth is change, Dick," said Slade. "If you wish to grow, you must change. Growth is becoming stronger; different; wiser. That is change."

"I will never change like that," said Dick. "I can still grow without changing the way I view the world. I don't want to steal. I don't want to kill."

"You have plenty of time to change. You aren't going anywhere anytime soon," said Slade with a dismissive wave of his hand. A smirk rose in his features. "In fact, I have all the patience in the world to await such growth."

"So, you think that growth brings change?"

"Of course."

"Are you still growing?"

A hard look flashed through Slade's face. But it fell away into an impassive one immediately after.

"Everyone continues to grow."

"Then," began Dick, believing and hoping in the words he was about to say. "Even _you_ can change your thinking – change your ways. One day, you might grow and change just like you think I will."

Slade stared at Dick for a long moment, before breaking out into laughter. It wasn't a chilling sound, but pure mirth as the man shook his head as he laughed. Even though the laughter was towards him, Dick found the laughter nice. It was different than the man's dark chilling laughter. This felt… normal.

No diabolical villain laughter here.

"Haha, oh… Now _that_ is funny," said Slade finally, shaking his head once more. "_Me?_ _Change?_ Change my thinking; my ways? Oh, Dick; that's just not going to happen."

"But, you said you'll continue to grow and change."

"Not like that," said Slade; all previous mirth sliding away in an instant.

"But you _have_ changed," insisted Dick.

"I haven't at all."

"You stopped beating me," whispered Dick. He stared at his hands in his lap; tightening his hold onto his empty bowl. Slade's visible eye flashed with a hard light before it softened. After a moment, he waved dismissively.

"No, I haven't. I just stick to one area now."

"You've changed, Slade. Whether you think you have or not; there's no denying it – you've changed."

"You're mistaken, Dick," said Slade flatly; his jaw tightening.

"So, you're not holding your temper more?" asked Dick in a soft undertone. He continued quickly as Slade narrowed his eye. "So, you're still hitting me out of anger? Still slapping me? Still punching me? Still kicking me? Face it, Slade – you've changed."

Slade was silent as he turned his gaze away. A part of Dick actually wanted to express his thanks on the matter. While he was _not_ at all thrilled at the man's new tactics, at least he wasn't wincing minutely in pain from any intense bruises. Despite the undeniable situation that the man had kidnapped him and forced him to stay here against his will, Slade had changed – and that made things a lot easier for Dick to accept his current life. He also wasn't always afraid – afraid that the man would lash out at him in anger.

Sure, Dick still didn't quite trust that the man wouldn't go back to his original ways, but it had been a month since then and Slade had kept his word completely. Slade was proving to make a visible effort in holding back his temper – like he had this morning, even when Dick had been pretty offensive. Slowly, but surely, Dick was beginning to trust just a little that the man would keep his word.

But there was still that nagging voice reminding him of the possibility. Old bruises might have faded, but the fear hadn't completely. It was faint and getting fainter by the day, but it still was there. It was getting better, though. Dick had to admit: the man had changed some.

But it was obvious that Slade didn't want to admit that he had changed. Was it such a problem? Wasn't the man trying to convince Dick that he would change? It was almost as if Slade couldn't stomach his own words. What was that old Aesop tale? 'Do as I say and not as I do?' Or was Slade simply afraid to change?

"Well…" began Dick in a murmur; weakness setting in. His mind was beginning to feel as it did earlier; fuzzy. He should've brought one of those ice packs down with him. He was unable to hold back the words that slipped from his tongue. "Even if you won't admit it, I still… appreciate it."

He was suddenly getting very tired now. The heat in his face had been intensifying during dinner and his throat was now ragingly raw. He could feel tenseness rising inside his chest – a sign that in a few days he'd be coughing and hacking. Dick was still looking at his hands in his lap, so he wasn't able to see the taken aback look on Slade's face.

He also didn't notice himself slipping away. He was feeling really, _really_ tired all of the sudden. Somehow, he lost himself.

Dick fell, collapsing onto the couch onto his side; his dinner bowl and fork toppling to the floor.

"Dick?" said Slade, standing up. He was at the boy's side in a moment, kneeling down on the floor as he placed a hand on his forehead. It was hot – all too hot; worse than it had been before.

"Dick, can you hear me?"

There was a low mumble that escaped the boy's lips.

"Dick—good grief, what is going on around here?"

"…_hurts…_"

"What does?" asked Slade in a whisper; matching the boy's soft voice.

"_Throat…_"

"You have a sore throat?" There was a wan nod. Slade raised an eyebrow. "How long has your throat been bothering you?"

"_Fe—few days…_"

Slade did everything he could to reel back the growl that threatened to part through his lips.

"Blast it, boy—_you, too!?_ You should've told me sooner and we could have prevented it from becoming so strong. If you weren't so sick right now, you'd be over my knee _right this very second!_"

Dick groaned deeply, his head rolling to the side; and with a whine, murmured, "_Don't…_"

Slade gave out an exasperated sigh. There was nothing left to do. Good grief, first Wintergreen, now Dick. How on earth did they get sick in the first place? It wasn't as if they had contact with the outside world – although, Wintergreen might… Blast it. The old man probably caught it while doing his blasted grocery shopping. The only exit and entrance out of here and the old man _had_ to bring back _disease_ with him.

Blast it all.

With another heavy sigh, Slade slid his arms beneath the boy's back and knees, carefully lifting him up into his chest. Dick whimpered lightly; his head resting against Slade's chest.

"You silly boy," murmured Slade. "You should've come to me with this."

There was another low whimper.

Well, Slade had been right. But it had come a little late. It wasn't going to be a long 'day' – no, no; it was going to be a _looong_ 'fortnight'.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Doctor in the House – Slade discovers the trials of dealing with a very diseased and a _very_ difficult Dick.

**Author's Notes:** Haha, ya'll knew it was happening, right? Well, I can't wait for the next chapter. It's fun. *giggles madly* Oho, so much fun. ^_^

Ah, I really love this chapter. There's such development between Slade and Dick. And you can see that Slade is getting more comfortable, too, around Dick; even to the point of almost letting some things slip. ^^ And not to mention this chapter has to hold the best "Slade teasing Dick" moment. XD

So… Like the brilliant idiot that _I_ am, I've done this before. I was cooking pasta with a durn metal colander inside the pot. And you know the kitchen, there's never a hot pad around when you need it; so, I just used folded up paper towels. I lift the pasta out and steam floods over my fingers. I _almost_ dropped the pot in shock. But I endured it, knowing full well dropping it would not be a good option. Too bad Dick hadn't realized that. XD

Yeah, I had a good nasty burn on my finger that would've blistered, _if_ I hadn't had that special spray. I swear, instantly the pain was gone; next day there was no remnant of a burn ever being on my finger. It really is magical.

_And they stopped making it! o.O_

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	28. A Doctor in the House

**Author's Note:** Hehe! ^-^ I'm so thankful for all the support, guys. Ya'll are awesome and have such interesting things to say. Thanks a ton!

My short story is available **free** all day today at Amazon. Please check it out! ^-^ Link is available here (with a little doctoring) or on my profile. It's a three year old work, but it's interesting to see how far I've come since then. I'd even say that within the past year alone my work has gotten far better. My friend mentioned that mentally you become an adult at age 24. I was like, "Well, no wonder my writings have gotten better in the past year." XD

www . amazon dot com/The-Prince-Time-Keeper-ebook/dp/B00BTLJEB0

*Anthy looks up at Slade and points at **XxPhoenix FlightxX*** "You heard the girl. Shape up or ship out." *scampers off quickly before Slade can kill her*

XD LOL!

Interesting, so we've got one vote for Slade to be more daddy-like, one vote to sort of have Dick stay with Slade, while another says more hurt Robin. *giggles*

Oh, choices, choices. We'll just have to go with sickie Dickie here.

You know, I like Slade – least this sadistic tease version of mine. Aheh. ^^ To be honest, I prefer Slade over Batman. I dunno, he just has a lot of untapped potential and Batman always overshadows those potentials. It disappointing, really. Guess I'll just have to do it. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**A Doctor in the House**

**November 12th, 2008. Wednesday, 8:13 pm.**

Slade carried the boy to his bed upstairs. Dick whimpered and moaned in Slade's arms. Sometimes he thrashed gently; his head swinging back and forth through his whimpers. Once Slade stopped his walk to the boy's bedroom and tightened his hold on him, the boy would quiet and rest his head against Slade's chest. Slade wasn't sure how long the boy was trying to remain strong through it. Good grief, the boy was stubborn – Will, too.

What really surprised Slade was that the boy was light as a feather. It truly attested just how young he was. Fourteen wasn't all that old, if one honestly thought about it. True, the boy was a bit smaller for his age, but it still amazed Slade just how small the boy was in his arms.

Like a little child.

Helpless, even.

But Dick certainly wasn't helpless. He was a powerful kid and one who would stand by Slade's side as his heir. Slade smiled silkily. Yes, he might be young now, but one day the boy would grow into an all powerful young man – the perfect partner, the perfect heir, the perfect assassin; Slade had no doubt.

The boy was perfect.

At least that's what Slade had thought. But as three days passed since the boy had fallen ill, Slade was seriously reconsidering some things – temporarily, of course. He hadn't ever come across something like this before and he was just about ready to go crazy.

The boy was a right little devil!

He was _terrible_; a right little devilish _terror_. There was no doubt about it: Slade was ready to throttle him. But, of course, that wasn't really conducive to Slade's plans if his apprentice in training wasn't among the living.

But good grief.

The boy was not cooperative _at all_ with Slade's attempts at helping him through this confounded cold. In fact, he was terribly difficult. Everything was a fight or battle with him. He never would eat the food that Slade brought him, not until Slade threatened five times to blend it all up and force him to drink it.

Wintergreen was better by the second day that Dick had fallen ill, but he wouldn't take a turn at the cursed position of nursemaid to the spawn of the devil. Wintergreen expressly felt that this was a perfect time for the two of them to bond.

Slade seriously doubted that – especially since he was about ready to kill the little brat. He could only bet that Wintergreen just didn't want to deal with this terrible little boy.

Wintergreen gave Slade a number of antibiotics including some herbal remedies. Slade was literally handed a basket full of vitamins. As he looked through everything, he couldn't make heads or tails of the crap.

He never needed this kind of stuff. It wasn't that he never got sick; he did, rarely. But such sicknesses lasted a day at the most. Trying to figure out this stuff was like trying to figure out a woman's mind.

Impossible.

So, he chose four out of the billion that had been offered. He knew Vitamin C was a good one so he chose three different kinds of Vitamin C; some packets called Emergen-C – pink lemonade flavor, a bottle of crystals, and some standard tablets. Then, he chose something that Wintergreen swore would cut the cold by fourths. Some over the counter thing called Oscillococcinum.

Slade didn't even bother trying to pronounce that.

But as he tried to get the boy to take the blasted things, he was met with absolute resistance and just plain petulance.

"Leave me _alone_, Slade," growled Dick for the fiftieth time that day. The boy's voice sounded extremely hoarse and he was coughing occasionally. Slade closed his eye; trying to draw on all his strength for control. He was about two seconds from ripping the boy out of that bed and pounding his sick backside for an hour or two.

Yes, that would be _most_ satisfying. Couldn't kill him, after all.

But Slade refrained from doing so. The boy was sick – he didn't need more misery on top of it.

"Dick, I am trying to _help_ you. Just take the blasted pills already," said Slade in an exasperated tone. "Let them dissolve under your tongue."

"_No!_" cried Dick childishly, tossing the small tube of the Oscillococcinum pellets across the room. "Leave me alone already! I just wanna be _alone!_"

_You and me both, boy…_

Slade swiped a hand over his face. He was going insane. It was rare when he felt homicidal – his contracts never even brought that out of him – but at that very moment, he was overwhelmed by the feeling. It was terrible. How could this fourteen year old _brat_ bring out this side of him? Slade had to think of something that would keep him on the ledge of sanity.

Slade pinched the bridge of his nose briefly.

That's it. He was going to keep track. That would keep him sane. Yes, that would do it. He was going to count how many times the boy earned himself a good _hard_ swat. Although, Slade seriously doubted that the boy would _ever_ be able to sit down after all this.

So, this was definitely one. Yes, indeed.

Slade took a cleansing breath; trying to calm himself down. Then, he took another small tube from the package and stalked back to Dick's bedside. He pointed a hard finger at the boy.

"Listen up, boy, and listen good," said Slade in a complete, sharp tone that meant business. "You _will_ put this under your tongue. You _will_ shut up and let it dissolve. The faster you get this cold over and done with, the faster we can be finished with this nonsense. Now, are you going to do it yourself or am I going to have to _manhandle_ you? Oh, and believe me; I will do so."

Dick narrowed his eyes as stared at him. Slade could tell the boy was weighing his options. Slade merely matched his stare with a harder one of his own. He was not going to let this sick, cranky brat win.

"_Fine_," snapped Dick, snatching the small tube away from Slade irritably. He popped the lid and set back his head to pour the small white pellets underneath his tongue. Once he was finished, he set a glare onto Slade and handed him back the tube.

One out of four, that was.

Luckily, Slade could combine the pink lemonade with the C crystals, but that would probably make it unbelievably tart – the boy would have a conniption fit. Probably shouldn't do that… Would seriously make life just a little harder for Slade, now wouldn't it?

"All right, now take these," said Slade, handing Dick five of the Vitamin C tablets after he was sure the boy had finished the other medicine. Dick growled again and turned his head obstinately away. Slade repressed a sigh mixed with a growl and continued to proffer them.

"This isn't up for debate, Dick. Take them _now_," said Slade.

"Why don't _you_ eat them?" griped Dick, flopping back onto his pillow. "I don't wanna pop so many pills like a drug addict."

"These aren't drugs; they're vitamins – antibiotics to speed the process up," said Slade in a low hiss, trying very hard not to blow a fuse.

"Don't care. Not taking them," said Dick flatly. Slade growled. The boy just stared at him, not even flinching. Well, that probably wasn't healthy behavior for the boy – _watching_ wasn't producing healthy behavior in Slade, either. Slade bent down and forced the boy to sit up; depositing the five tablets into his hand and wrapping his fingers over them.

"Take them. _Now_," said Slade; sending the boy a dark glare. Dick sent Slade a scowl and grabbed a cup of water from off the end table. He downed the five pills in one shot and then slammed the cup down.

"_Jerk_," muttered Dick under his breath as he flopped back down.

Well, that just did it.

"That's two," said Slade, grinding his teeth.

"Two? Two what?"

"The number of swats I plan to apply to your disrespectful backside when you get better. I've decided to keep track of your outrageous, obstinate, _childish_ behavior," said Slade, letting a sadistic smirk lift his mouth. Dick groaned and slumped the covers over his head.

"Being sick isn't enough? I have to be tortured, too?"

"Pretty much. Look forward to it," said Slade, still unable to wipe the smirk from off his face. Mmm, that was just too much fun. He was rewarded with another low groan as the boy wiggled under the covers. Torturing the boy like this just might keep said boy alive. Well, served the boy right – being such a complete terror.

_Who knew the boy was this difficult with a simple cold? Not even Will is this bad._

Slade took a deep breath. Now for the _real_ fun.

Slade grabbed a packet of Emergen-C and ripped it open. The acidic, powdery substance tickled his nose as he poured the contents into another plastic cup of water that was on the end table. The pink liquid fizzed noisily for a few moments before settling down somewhat. Then, after pulling the covers back down, Slade handed the fizzing drink to Dick, who merely stared at the cup with contempt.

"Sit up and drink it," commanded Slade.

"What is it?"

"Vitamin C," said Slade, trying very hard to ignore the ornery tone the boy was taking. "It will help you get over this blasted cold faster."

"Don't want it."

"Don't care. Drink it."

"No."

"Dick—"

"_No!_"

Slade growled deeply. "That's number three. Now—" Slade grabbed the boy by the shoulder and forced him up. "Don't make it four and _drink it!_"

Dick clenched his teeth as he grudgingly grabbed the cup from Slade. He took a moment to inspect the drink before he experimentally tested it.

He visibly grimaced.

"_Ugh!_ What _is_ that?" groaned Dick, pushing the cup away from his mouth and holding it out for Slade to take away. "It's so awfully sour. Yuck! It burns my throat!"

"Drink it. It'll help you get better, Dick," said Slade, pushing the hand away and directing it back to Dick's mouth.

"No way!" cried Dick, turning his head away stubbornly. Slade repressed a growl. Good grief, this boy was a pain in the butt. Slade forced the plastic cup back to the boy.

"Drink it _now_, boy," said Slade. Dick looked at the drink and then lifted his eyes to settle on him. Slade noticed a strange light entering the boy's eyes. It was something he hadn't ever seen before. A second later, he understood why.

Dick threw the plastic cup at Slade, thoroughly drenching him in the Vitamin C drink. Slade's jaw clenched as he open his mouth in pure shock and anger. The boy gave a decided huff and flopped back down onto his pillow; turning to the wall with his legs curled up.

Oh, no he did _not_ just do that.

But as the strong, rank smell of the Vitamin C wafted over him with the silent beads of liquid dripping onto the carpet, Slade was fully aware that the boy had most certainly done that. Slade closed his eye; trying very hard not to rip the boy out of bed that second and give him a _very_ good reason why he shouldn't _ever_ do something like this again.

But the boy was sick – not to mention an absolute mess. He looked like a complete disaster. He was miserable and was obviously not right in the head – nonetheless, Slade was going to count this one for sure. The boy usually had enough self preservation not to do something so childish and obstinate. Who knew the Boy Wonder was a holy terror when sick?

So, that's four – _no doubt about_ _that_.

Slade whirled around on his heel; striding out of the room quickly. He wasn't going to be able to think properly with the terrible smelling crap all over him. Fifteen minutes and a great deal of hot water later, Slade had showered and dressed in a new set of clothes.

Now to go back and deal with the diseased Boy Wonder of Holy Terror.

This was now war. That's right; the dear boy had issued a declaration of war against Slade. There was no doubt about that. Well, Slade was a war veteran. Let's just see how far the boy can get against fighting _him_. Dear, lovely, adorable Dick was in for a _very_ rude awakening.

Slade walked into the kitchen and prepared his weapon: a water bottle with a fresh supply of the pink lemonade Vitamin C inside. Just for spite, Slade doubled the amount; also adding a healthy, generous scoop of Vitamin C crystals. If the boy thought it was tart and sour before… Heh, the boy was about to make the funniest face known to man.

Armed and ready for the upcoming battle, Slade marched back down the hallway; shaking the bottle vigorously. He entered Dick's room slowly, watching the bed where the boy was lying. Dick was tossing and turning; murmurs of grumbles escaping his lips. Slade knew he was miserable and he did feel just a tad bad for him. But honestly, Slade was only trying to make the cold go faster. If the blasted boy just cooperated, he'd realize that.

Slade grabbed the chair and settled into it; bringing the chair right next to the bed.

"Dick, look at me," said Slade. There was a long groan and after a moment, Slade was graced with two sparkling blue eyes that were washed over with complete misery.

"Now," began Slade. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Slade held up the water bottle and smirked condescendingly. "You drink this like a _good little boy_ and I'll give you a treat. Otherwise, I'll force feed it to you."

"Shove off, Slade. I'm not a baby," scowled Dick; jerking his head away grumpily. "Leave me alone already."

Oh, that _delightful_ phrase. Slade was ready to rip that one right out of the boy's mouth if he could. It took a moment for Slade to take a deep breath and not lose his temper yet again. The boy was sick; therefore, he had a perfectly good excuse for being a complete _brat_. That would be another swat when he was better. Oh yes, the boy was up to five now. With one final heaving breath, he smirked. Looks like the boy chose the fun way.

"Well, all right then," said Slade. He stood from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed; turning to face in the same direction as the boy. He curled an arm beneath Dick's back to force him to sit up. Slade came across opposition to this.

"No—Stop, Slade! What are you doing?" cried Dick, thrashing in the bed and trying to move far away from Slade's grasp.

"Force feeding you. I said I would," said Slade. He gave the boy an incredulous look. "You doubted my words?"

"_Geoff me!_" struggled Dick fiercely. Slade merely forced himself further onto the bed; coming to sit at the head and behind Dick. With a strong left arm, he curled it around the boy's chest; clamping down his arms as he did so. Slade pulled the boy directly against his own chest. Slade noticed that the boy was quite heated to the touch; his skin lightly damp with perspiration from the fever. Dick thrashed ferociously, but there was no escaping Slade's iron hold on him.

Slade popped the lid of the bottle with his other hand. The boy honestly should be thankful he didn't have any baby bottles around or Slade would've used that to complete the entire effect. Ah well, the sports bottle would have to do.

The boy wouldn't hold still; his head wildly swinging back and forth as he voiced his protests viciously and loudly. Since Slade had decided not to get angry over the complete foolishness, he was beginning to find it mildly funny. It was pretty comical to watch the boy thrash uselessly in his arms.

In fact, it was getting to be downright hilarious to Slade.

"You better hold still, Dick. You don't want me to miss and get this stuff in your eyes," warned Slade lightly, his face completely lifted into smirk.

"_No!_ Geoff me! Get—the—_heck_—off—me!" snarled Dick as he thrashed back and forth. Slade just waited for a moment; watching the boy's movements. Then, with a sudden strike that would put a cobra to shame, Slade got the bottle's tip into his target – Dick's open mouth.

Dick stilled suddenly; going completely rigid.

Slade gently squeezed the bottle and there was a small gagging noise from Dick. He lifted it back slightly to give the boy room to swallow. Slade watched from above as Dick's face scrunched up over the horrendous sour, tart taste that he was no doubt experiencing. Slade could see some of the liquid in the boy's open gagging mouth.

"Swallow," said Slade in a deep voice. Slade felt the boy obey his command. Immediately, there was more gagging as Dick's body spazzed from the sour taste. The boy grimaced harshly, his tongue writhing in his open mouth.

Ooh, Slade was enjoying this.

"Holy warheads, Slade," grimaced Dick as he gagged again. "That stuff is the sourest crap I've ever tasted. What the _heck_ did you put in that?"

"Double strength," drawled Slade in a low undertone. "And you're going to drink the _whole_ bottle."

_Payback for dousing me in this nasty stuff earlier._

There was a low whimper from the boy. He shook his head rapidly, burrowing deeply in Slade's chest away from the bottle.

"Please… no," murmured Dick in a desperate plea. "That stuff is _awful_."

"Trust me, it's better than castor oil, I assure you. Will would've shoved that into your mouth without hesitation."

"But… isn't castor oil… a laxative?" asked Dick anxiously.

"_Precisely_," said Slade; smirking heavily. "Taking excessive amounts of Vitamin C has a similar effect."

Dick dropped his head back against Slade's chest and groaned deeply.

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" bemoaned Dick. "Why this new form of torture, Slade?"

"This isn't my doing, boy," said Slade dubiously. "Blame Will. He's the one who got you sick. I'm just trying to get you well within a week or so instead of a month or two. Now, enough stalling. Drink."

Slade brought the bottle to Dick's mouth. There was a little resistance as the boy grimaced and whimpered heavily; turning his head side to side and trying to avoid the bottle. But, finally the boy gave up and reluctantly opened his mouth submissively. There was another squirt and another entertaining gag.

And they had barely even started yet.

Twenty minutes later, the bottle was finally all gone. Dick was breathing heavily, thoroughly exhausted, as he rested against Slade; a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks from the harsh acidic taste he had been forced to experience. Slade had to admit, once the boy finally calmed down he did pretty well. In the middle of it, Slade tried to remove himself from the bed and let Dick drink it on his own; however, the boy began to protest again and refused to obey.

But once Slade was back into position, the boy was perfectly submissive and didn't fight at all. It puzzled Slade greatly. So, he tested it again, which only produced the same result.

So, finally, Slade tried something else. He stayed behind the boy, letting him rest against his chest, and handed him the bottle. Dick did this obediently and struggled to down the acidic substance. There were times when the boy couldn't go on and Slade would put a encouraging hand on his arm.

It worked every time.

Slade was pensive through it all. The boy was calm _only_ when there was a comforting hand to guide him. Slade's mere presence behind the boy was enough for Dick to struggle through the nasty bottle without protest – only multiple gagging, groaning, and grimacing.

It was becoming more and more apparent to Slade that the boy truly did best with human contact. It was the strangest thing to Slade – he hadn't seen anything like it before. It wasn't completely his style to offer such things either; granted, he was one to ruffle a head of hair here and there or one to clasp a shoulder sometimes. But he definitely wasn't one to be soft and cuddly like a puppy.

Just wasn't going to happen.

But it seemed that deep down Dick was weak against such things. He completely melted with a simple hand on the shoulder. It was becoming clearer and it was obvious that it didn't matter that it was Slade giving such things – human touch was something Dick hadn't had; thus, he was extremely weak to it.

Not just that, the boy _craved_ it.

Slade was in such a deep thought process that when he came out of it, he hadn't noticed that the boy had fallen asleep. His chest rose and receded slowly in his sleep. Letting a smile cross his lips, Slade carefully pulled out from behind him. With strong hands, he laid Dick onto his pillow. The boy whimpered once in his sleep; but as Slade ran a few fingers across his sweaty and hot brow, he quieted contentedly.

As Slade lifted away, he put his hands on his hips as he observed the sleeping boy.

What a strange child.

ooOOOOOoo

**November 21st, 2008. Friday, 7:13 am.**

It had been quite entertaining for Slade over the past week. Once he calmed himself down and let the boy be, it was really funny if Slade were honest with himself. Twice every day Slade had to force that tart, _beyond_ tart Vitamin C down Dick's throat. Once they got through the whimpers and the whines – not to mention Slade having to coddle the boy by sitting behind him – it was the most entertaining thing Slade had ever seen.

Plus, the darts to the bathroom were also quite hilarious.

Dick was still as terror worthy as a little devil through it all, unfortunately for him. Not even the count up of swats did anything to curb his bad temper and tongue. By the ninth day of being sick, the boy had ranked up fifty-three points in the swatting department and Slade happily took every happy opportunity to remind him of it. This would get him another entertaining round of groans, whimpers, and hiding underneath the covers. Well, Slade had to do _something_ keep himself amused through all this, or else he would've probably strangled the little terror.

It had been a long time since Slade had nursed a child back to health. It was certainly a strange feeling. But, Slade managed to use his chuckler quite a bit through all this. It was interesting to him that his patience level was rising lately. Things that would've infuriated him two months ago, now merely made him raise his eyebrow sternly. He couldn't imagine that he was really changing at all. He knew it wasn't possible – not with who and what he was.

But like any muscle in life, he was just exercising his patience level. Thus, it had grown – that was merely it. Things didn't irritate him as quickly, which was good for the boy. That certainly didn't mean Slade was going to let Dick get away with crap. He still was going to make very sure that the boy was still wary of his control and authority.

Although, Slade wasn't sure what he was going to do with the boy's current behavior. The past two days, Dick had gotten much better; thus, his attitude improved greatly as well. He only made one mistake to make Slade count another one. It was obvious that while sick, the boy wasn't in his right mind and Slade wasn't sure if he wanted to start Dick's new health with whaling the boy's hide after he'd been so miserable.

Drinking so much Vitamin C had definitely been torture enough – Slade knew full well. Behind the scenes, he had tried the concoction at its full potential. Slade had never tasted anything so terribly tart and acidic in his life. No wonder the boy put up a fuss – it was enough to tear strips off the roof of your mouth.

Thus, this morning at breakfast, Slade was deep in thought about what he should do. He could tell Dick was thoroughly apprehensive. Slade had told him that the second he was well enough to eat at the table that he give him what he earned through it all. Dick knew it was coming and his body language said it all – he was a downright nervous wreck over it.

Once again this proved to be an entertaining route.

The boy was torturing himself with worry and apprehension. It took everything Slade had not to snort with amusement over the whole thing. The boy truly looked so young; almost like a little child. It was almost endearing, in a way – if Slade let himself go that route. No, no, he was not going to coddle the child—boy.

Dick was finished with his breakfast and was finding everything but Slade interesting. The boy refused to look at him. He was also chewing on his bottom lip. Well, Slade still wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but might as well enjoy watching the boy squirm himself to death.

"You done?" asked Slade; trying hard not to let a smirk lift his voice. Dick nodded jerkily; still refusing to look at him.

"Well then," started Slade, slapping his thighs so that the sound echoed slightly. The boy flinched visibly. "Let's go."

Slade stood up and began to walk down the hallway. He gave a tiny glance back to see Dick slowly rising from his chair. He hands were shaking at his side as he stood up. He then dragged his feet as he walked after Slade as slowly as he possibly could.

Good grief, you'd think the boy was about to be executed.

But there was something different. He didn't look afraid, merely apprehensive. When Slade had beaten him before, there was always fear and terror in his eyes. Now, there wasn't any fear. Sure, the boy was afraid, but it was definitely different than before. Slade wasn't sure what it was. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

Oh bother.

He was starting to feel a little bad for the boy. Honestly, he really did deserve this – _especially_ after _throwing_ that Vitamin C mixture at him. But Slade was beginning to feel that he really should go easy on him. He still wasn't completely better, but he was much stronger than he had been before. The boy was still coughing as well at times. Slade did _not_ need a relapse. No, the last thing he needed was a relapse. Good grief, no.

Slade opened the boy's bedroom door and walked to the desk chair; sitting down. Dick was slowly walking inside after him. He closed the door behind himself and then turned towards Slade. Dick's walk couldn't be slower, but finally he stood in front of Slade. His head was ducked slightly, but Slade could see his eyes. The boy was literally chewing on his lower lip; his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

All right. _All right_, then. Slade was going to go easy on the boy. _Not_ because he was going soft. No, eternally, _no_. Those saddened, repentant baby blue eyes had _no_ effect in wavering his resolve with the boy. Neither did that timid pout that was gracing the boy's lower lip. _No_. No, no, it was the fact that the boy was still a little sick and Slade didn't need other week from the Boy Wonder that was a diseased little devil.

Well, but there was no reason he couldn't torture and tease the boy's psyche. That wouldn't injure him… much.

Dick was trembling. He completely understood that he'd been terrible to Slade while he was sick. Alfred always mentioned that he was horrendous while sick. Dick always had a long lecture at the end of a cold from the old butler. Dick barely could remember some of the stuff he did to Slade over the past week; everything was too much of a blur in the illness – although, he did remember throwing a cup of Vitamin C at the man, which he _deeply_ regretted. There was no doubt that in normal times, Dick would've been over the man's knees faster than Kid Flash could pick up a doughnut at the local convenience store.

Still, there was nothing that could convince Dick to really agree to this. He knew he had been terrible, but that didn't mean he wanted to be subjected to this kind of… reprimand.

Not that he had much of a choice.

Slade's hands clasped Dick by the arms as he pulled him closer. Dick swallowed the increasing lump in his throat. There was a very serious light in the man's eye, but there was something else inside that Dick wasn't sure of.

"Dick, you know you've been very belligerent and downright horrible this past week, yes?"

Dick nodded, biting his lip harder.

"You know you deserve to be punished for being so awful when I was only trying to nurse you back to health, yes?"

Oh, why did the man have to make him feel even more guilty. It was bad enough that his own conscious was eating him alive; but now Slade had to throw salt onto the wound and make him feel even worse.

Trying very not to tremble more than he already was, Dick nodded twice.

"Very well, then. This will be a little different than normal," said Slade. Dick wished the man would just get the whole thing over with already. The wait was twisting inside Dick's stomach in a horrible knotted mess. He hated the wait just as much as he hated being punished like this. But he knew this was just a little – _very little_ – bit better than getting punched and kicked.

Still…

"I'm going to count out each one."

Dick nearly died right then and there. The man was actually going to keep track of this? What was this, slow-torture-Dick-to-death week?

_Just hurry up already! Quit torturing me like this! Just get this over with!_

Thus, Dick was once again in that same position that he seriously wished he wasn't in. But at the first count, it took all of Dick's control not to gasp in surprise. The man was striking harder than he had ever done before. That had hurt… _a lot_.

Oh crap.

If Dick had to endure this slow pace for rest of the fifty-one of the man's hard swats, he wasn't going to make it. He probably wouldn't be able to restrain his tears. There was just no way. He seriously did _not_ want to be a sobbing mess. He much rather bear this whole nonsense stoically. But at this rate… Slade was really taking his vengeance for the hard week. Not that Dick could blame him…

When Slade counted for the third, Dick closed his eyes; trying extremely hard to imagine himself anywhere but here. Anywhere but here – maybe a flowery meadow with fluffy, white—_wait_, why are they green?—bunnies; he honestly didn't care. This was definitely torture on a whole new level. Why the heck did the man have to draw it out like this? Just hurry it up for crying out loud!

But then, Dick was suddenly righted to his feet to stand in front of Slade. Dick blinked, completely shocked. His chest heaved once from his effort to calm his nerves. But he was standing in front of Slade again. But the man had only given him…

"What–what's going on?" asked Dick, looking down at Slade as the man's hands clasped his arms.

"We're done," said Slade.

Dick blinked a few times more.

"W–what do you mean? You said—"

"I gave you three. That's what you earned, after all."

"But you said _fifty_-three!"

"Did I?" drawled Slade coyly.

"Yes, you di—" Dick stopped as he stared at Slade, dawning realization flooding through him.

The man had stringed him along all this time! That sly smirk that was all over his face was proof enough! Dick suddenly felt extremely sulky; resisting the urge to fold his arms and huff like a little child. That was totally not cool at all. Slade really did like his psychological torture, now didn't he?

But then…

Wait, Slade was going easy on him? Dick knew very well that he'd been awful and he was fully aware of the ever increasing number that Slade took great pleasure in reminding him _hourly_ over the past few days. After all that, why would Slade go easy? That wasn't like Slade at all and it wasn't like he halved the punishment – he cut off most. While Dick was suddenly eternally grateful for the man's abrupt benevolence, it still greatly confused him.

"But why?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you going on easy me?" asked Dick in a soft tone with his head lowered slightly; his hands fingering the edges of his shirt nervously. There was a long moment before Dick glanced his eyes up to look at Slade. The man was looking away before he gave out a tired sigh. For a moment, he looked hesitant.

"Mmm, well," started Slade. "I tried out some of that Vitamin C mixture I forced you to drink every day. I suppose you've been tortured enough."

"You tried it?" asked Dick, his eyes widening. "You couldn't take my gagging as a good sign that it was horrible?"

"Mmm, I merely thought you were exaggerating," drawled Slade.

Dick was thoroughly indignant.

"_Seriously?!_ What part of—" Dick made the familiar gagging sound. "—and—" He made another grimacing noise, scrunching his face up. "—didn't you understand?!"

Slade broke out into a snorting chuckle. His hands squeezed Dick's arms once as he shook his head.

"Sometimes you seriously are just…" Slade trailed off through his chuckles, shaking his head once more. His amused expression slid away as he observed Dick for a moment; his face going impassive once again.

"Do you have any fluid in your lungs?" asked Slade, his eye serious. Dick shrugged within his Slade's hands. "Will you let me test?"

"How?"

"Wait here," said Slade, standing up.

As he left the room, Dick sat down on the edge of the bed; wiggling once on his lightly stinging seat. It would only be a few minutes before it'd be gone and he once again felt thankful for not having to endure a full punishment. But it still puzzled Dick that the man had gone lightly on him. Since when did Slade ever go easy on him? What had changed?

Dick waited a bit nervously; playing with the edges of his shirt. A few moments later, Slade came into the room with a stethoscope. He sat back down in the chair; moving it closer to Dick so that their knees collided gently. Slade put the tips of the stethoscope into his ears and motioned to Dick as he readied the end.

"Lift up your shirt," instructed Slade. Dick obeyed him and Slade placed the metal knob to the center of his chest. It was extremely chilling to his skin. Slade placed a hand to Dick's back and pushed him to sit up straighter.

"Sit up straight. Breathe in deeply."

Once again, Dick obeyed without question. He breathed deeply for the man a few times. On the fifth deep breath, his lungs caught inside and it took him a few moments of coughing to clear his pipes of the phlegm. Slade withdrew the stethoscope, but he kept his hand on Dick's back; lightly rubbing back and forth.

Finally, when Dick managed to settle down, Slade resumed listening to his lungs. After a moment, he withdrew finally; taking the tips of the stethoscope out of his ears. The man leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he looked at him. Dick lowered his shirt back down.

"When you breathed before, you rattled," said Slade, smirking. "But luckily, it seems like you're past the brunt of the cold. I still can hear a little congestion in your lungs – obviously, since breathing too deeply causes your lungs to want to clear themselves out. We'll be sure to take everything nice and slowly for the next week or so. I don't need you passing out on me."

"I won't pass out!" cried Dick hotly.

"You might."

"I will not! I'm not weak."

"Getting sick has nothing to do with weakness, boy," said Slade. "Your body is still recovering and I would _very much_ like to avoid having a week like we've previously experienced. Don't you agree?"

Dick slid his mouth to the side slightly in a small sulk, but he nodded his agreement. It felt strange that Slade was so concerned with his health. He could still feel the sensation of Slade's hand on his back. It had been extremely firm, yet gentle as it rubbed his back when he had been coughing. Dick had appreciated its presence; it had been comforting.

Usually, adults rarely ever concerned themselves with Dick. Although, Alfred had been pretty observant of Dick through the years he was Bruce's ward; Bruce himself didn't really know much about children – that much had been obvious. Slade seemed to know exactly what do sometimes; however, there were times that he didn't. But somehow, Dick got the impression that Slade had done something like this before.

But that couldn't be right… could it?

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Matter of Morals – After contemplation about his mother, Dick tries to convince Slade to allow him to live by his morals.

**Author's Notes:** LOL, I love the green Beast Boy bunnies that popped up in Dick's mind. XD Aha, ah; but it's true. Vitamin C crystals, _good grief_, take too much and it's the tartest drink ever. Just whoa. Powerful stuff, my friends.

Interesting enough, I did research. I watched a bunch of kids eating a warhead. Their faces; oh my gosh. Most adorable and funniest faces known to man. Never got old. It was hilarious.

Ah, this was a fun chapter to write. Yup yup.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	29. A Matter of Morals

**Author's Note:** So glad you're all enjoying the story. ^^ And I'm thrilled it's making you laugh as much as I do as I write. Thanks a bunch for the continual support!

So, fun stuff. I recently got an idea for a completely different Robin and Slade story. Aheh… Yup, and actually the first chapter is posted if ya'll want to check it out. Am I crazy? Yup. What, ya'll just figured that out? XD LOL!

Hm, am I going anywhere with this story? Is it all/mostly about Robin and Slade? Yeah, pretty much. But I do have _everything_ laid out and completely planned. I'm not writing by the seat of my pants here. Blessed day, that…

In fact, something is actually happening right before your eyes now. Can you see it? It's just not the usual thing you'd expect with TT fanfics or Apprentice fanfics for that matter. This story is a subtle journey of two hearts. This story isn't about the action – even though there will be some more in future chapters. It's a bit more slow paced since the ending I'm going for could only be believable that way. ^^ The 'something else' that has to happen is happening in every single chapter; _everything_ being foreshadowed.

So, if you're looking for the norm, you really aren't going to find it here. But that's kind of a good thing, right? ^^ After an intense beginning, you could say this is the calm before another storm. Also, next Titans' appearance is chapter 34. ^^

*Anthy turns to Robin and points to the crowd* "They want me to kill you. Knock you off." *Anthy makes a slicing motion at her neck* "Completely dispatch of you."

*Robin shifts his weight and looks a bit nervous* "W–well… You're not, r–right? Just because they ask, doesn't mean you'll do it, right? I mean, isn't me getting beaten up for seventeen chapters enough and then this new torturous… _that_... Isn't that good enough?"

*Long pause*

"An–Anthy! Tell me you're not."

"No need to get worked up. It's called _dramatic pause_. Don't you know anything?"

"Oh… S–so, you're not, right?"

*Longer pause*

"_Anthy!_"

*giggle snickers* "Kid still doesn't get how much I love to tease him."

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**A Matter of Morals**

"_Ah, Mama! I'm so bored!" complained Dick, slamming the large book in his lap closed. He was dying of boredom. He shouldn't have learned how to read so fast. Now his mother was expecting more from him. He really needed to stop being so smart like his mother kept telling him all the time. Now she was making him read what had to be the most difficult and boring book – to a six year old, at least – in the world._

"_Dick," chided his mother gently, her voice lilting with her Romanian accent. "You know you're supposed to read your Bible every day."_

"_But it's sooo boring!" cried Dick, folding his arms grumpily; glaring at the offending black book. "They speak all backwards and they can't even spell right. What is this, shew or show? Say it right already!" Dick shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Mama, don't they know anything?"_

_Mary Grayson chuckled lightly. She set the dish she was washing aside, drying her hands on a towel, before coming to sit next to Dick on the couch._

"_Come and sit," said Mary, patting her lap once. Dick happily scrambled into his mother's lap, leaving the book behind. He settled with a contented smile as Mary wrapped her arms around him. Her warmth and softness was so wonderful. He wiggled happily. Mary grabbed the Bible from the couch and set it into Dick's lap._

"_You weren't supposed to close it."_

"_You learn more that way," reasoned Dick mischievously. Mary giggled at that and opened the book._

"_Oh, I see. You seem very knowledgeable for a little boy."_

_Dick shrugged. "I try."_

"_All right, enough sillies. Where were you reading."_

"_I dunno…"_

"_Dick."_

"_Fiiine. I dunno, there were a lot of 'thou shalt nots'. Started to drive me crazy!"_

"_Mmm, I know exactly where that is," said Mary with a hum in her voice; fingering through the aged book with expertness. Dick looked up at his mother, his large blue eyes blinking curiously._

"_Do you have the Bible memorized, Mama?"_

"_I might. Just so I can explain away all my mother logic when you get older – just to keep you out of mischief."_

"_I never get into mischief!"_

"_Mmm, my little robin… Are you quite sure of that?" asked Mary with a light smile, her r's trilling slightly as she said his nickname. Dick pouted for a moment and he shrugged._

"_Well, no more than what's healthy for a six year old."_

_Mary giggled. "I always forget that. You seem so much older sometimes. You really amaze me."_

_Dick felt a little glow of pride in his chest. He wiggled in her lap as he straightened. Mary stopped fingering through the glided edges of the pages until she came to a section in the book of Exodus._

"_Here we go," said Mary with a smile in her voice. "You were reading in chapter twenty. Did you know there are some very special things in this chapter? Special little gemstones of knowledge."_

_Dick's ears perked. While he didn't realize it, his mother knew just how to weave the interesting into such things. She knew exactly how to teach her little one. And since Dick was always thirsty to learn, she never needed much prodding._

"_Like what? I must've missed them," said Dick, leaning down closer to the page as if they'd suddenly pop out at him._

"_Inside this chapter are the things that God wants you and me to follow. What do you think they are?"_

"_Um…" Dick scrunched up his eyes as he concentrated with great difficulty. "Be nice to others?"_

_Mary let out a laugh, her melodic lilt radiating through Dick. Her arm tightened around Dick as she nudged him softly; running through his raven colored hair with her other hand._

"_Yes, of course. But there are more in here. Any ideas?"_

"_Aaah, Mama! Just tell me before I `xplode!" cried Dick, impatiently bouncing slightly in her lap. There were more giggles._

"_All right, my little robin. Settled down. Here, this verse here. It's very special."_

_Dick focused his eyes on the small text._

"_Thou shalt not kill," he read out loud after a moment. He folded his arms grumpily. "What's so special about that? It's only four words. It's just telling you not to kill."_

_Mary lifted Dick's chin so that he had to turn his head to the side and look up into her leaning profile._

"_Oh, but it's very special. Do you know what God is saying here?"_

"_Don't kill," said Dick flatly in his high voice, as if this was completely obvious._

"_Yes, but there is so much more."_

_Bright big blue eyes blinked curiously up into Mary's face. They sparkled with innocence and the need to learn; soaking up every moment, every soft touch, every sound, every kind word that his mother gave to him._

"_Don't you ever forgot, my little robin," said Mary in a gentle, soft tone as she caressed Dick's cheek. "Life is precious. Every life – no matter whose it is – should never be taken from them. Because once a life is gone, it's gone from this world. You cannot bring it back. It is a terrible thing to take away. No one has the right to steal life."_

_Dick nodded solemnly in agreement. This made Mary smile lovingly at him and nudge his nose with her own._

"_Don't you ever forget, my little robin; your life is precious."_

ooOOOOOoo

**December 8th, 2008. Monday, 6:03pm.**

Dick's eyes were glazed over as he was caught in the memory. His hand was suspended above his plate, his dinner long forgotten. It had been a long time since he had remembered anything that special about his mother. He took a deep calming breath. Her memory was always enough to break him down into tears. He could still remember her trilling voice and her soft touch. He always felt safe in her loving arms.

But one of his most favorite things about his mother was that she always told him how special he was. She always made him feel worth something. She always did her best to lift him up. She was the only one who ever told him that his life was precious. Sure, his father loved him, but he wasn't exactly going to say such deep things like that to his son. He'd always ruffle his hair playfully though and told Dick how much he loved him.

But Mary Grayson was the only one who had ever told him that his life was precious.

And that always brought a glow to Dick's heart.

She was also the one to give him his nickname. He had chosen his name Robin with Batman because it was from her. She always said that he looked like a little robin flying whenever he did the trapeze wires. Thus, he had gained his nickname and he had always loved it.

But as he was thinking deeply, a worry began to rise in his chest. While Slade was being completely patient with the gun education and was slowly building Dick's resistance to them, Dick was sure there would come a time when he'd be forced to use one on another human being. What would his mother think, after so diligently teaching him against it, if he killed someone?

The thought of making his mother's soft green eyes saddened and disappointed with him was more than Dick could bear. He'd never be able to face her.

But what could he do? Sure life was getting better now with Slade. Dick had avoided getting into any trouble since his sickness. However, within the past few days, Slade seemed more and more irritated by things. He lost his temper a lot, snapping at Dick more, but he held back since Dick wasn't ever trying to provoke the man. Luckily, Dick didn't do anything to disobey Slade; it just seemed like the little things would make the man cross.

Dick wasn't sure why he was getting that way. Was it because it was December? In just a few weeks Christmas would come. Did he hate Christmas or something? Was he a Scrooge? Somehow, Slade didn't quite seem that type, but in some ways he did.

So, why was he so irritable lately?

The thoughts of Dick's heart would probably anger the man. Even though there were many times when Slade told him that there were no morals in life, Dick disagreed. He knew his mother believed differently and while, he wasn't exactly religious like she was, Dick desperately wanted to please her memory.

Somehow, he needed to convince Slade that he didn't want to kill. He really didn't want to steal, but if he had to choose, he'd steal over using guns or shooting someone any day. He was sure his mother wouldn't like that, but she would understand that he wasn't really in control over certain things in his life anymore.

Dick bit his lip, glancing up at Slade as the man ate his dinner silently. He was reading the paper, occasionally ruffling the paper to turn it to another page. This was somewhat nerve wracking. He wasn't sure how Slade was going to take what he was going to say. But if Dick had to claim that he was a devote religious believer to avoid killing people, then amen to it.

Well, there was no harm in trying. Hopefully, Slade wouldn't get too mad at him – much, at least. It wasn't like there was much at stake here.

Except his hide…

"Slade, do you believe in God?" asked Dick casually, almost cautiously.

Slade rustled the newspaper he was reading and didn't look up; turning another page. Then, he stopped; a baffled, incredulous look beginning to flood through his features.

"What kind of question is that?" asked Slade, lifting an eyebrow as he eyed Dick over his newspaper.

"I was just thinking was all," said Dick with a shrug. "I mean—"

"There is no God, Dick," said Slade in a flat tone, his gaze returning to his paper. There was a terribly rigid light in his eye. Dick tried not to chew on his lip too much.

"Some people believe in one," continued Dick; trying to sound convincing, yet realizing it was sort of foolish. He tried a different tactic when he was ignored. Dick turned to look at the old man. "Mr. Wintergreen, do you believe in God?"

There was a pause between the three of them. Even Slade stopped for a moment to observe the old man over his newspaper; a bored, yet curious expression flowing over Slade's face. A smile laced through the old man's features as he took a sip from his juice, before setting it down onto the table.

"I do, actually," answered Wintergreen with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Really?"

"I didn't know that," said Slade with a questioning eyebrow; the newspaper slowly lowering down. Wintergreen merely smiled lightly.

"Just because we're best friends, Slade, doesn't mean you know everything about me," said Wintergreen, sounding mildly amused. The old man looked over at Dick. "You know, I believe in something else, too."

Dick leaned forward, eager to find out.

"I believe in angels."

There was a derisive snort from Slade.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard from you, Will," said Slade, shaking his head.

Dick's eyes widened as he looked at the old man. "Really?"

"Yes, indeed I do," said Wintergreen, ignoring Slade's snide comment. "I believe that there are guardian angels that watch over lost souls – even assigned to them to help them back onto a path of light and hope."

There was another snort from Slade. "Can you imagine one being assigned to me? I'd probably give the whole lot of them a ton of grief. I can see it now: wailing, moaning, and gnashing of teeth galore."

"I thought you didn't believe in what I was saying, Slade," said Wintergreen dubiously, a slight mocking lifting through his tone.

"I don't," retorted Slade in a flat tone. "I was just making a sarcastic remark. Surely by now you know that I'm full of that kind of stuff."

"Yes, I do know you're full of it," nodded Wintergreen. Dick choked on his juice; coughing and spluttering suddenly. Slade glared at the old man.

"Watch it," snapped Slade.

"Oh? Watch what?" said Wintergreen in a questioning lilt, appearing completely innocent. Slade merely glared daggers at the old man. Dick swore if glares could stab, the old man would be bleeding all over the table.

"Do you really believe angels watch over people, Wintergreen?—_ow!_"

A sharp pinch roughly tugged Dick's ear. Slade withdrew his hand and set a firm glare on him.

"Show some respect," snapped Slade; growing more irritable by the moment. Dick nodded meekly.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," said Dick, rubbing the pinch out of his ear. There was a moment of silence before Wintergreen broke the silence.

"I do indeed, child," said Wintergreen, his tone filled with reverence. Dick bit his lower lip and looked down at his dinner. It heartened him some to think there could be an angel watching over him. But somehow, he didn't believe there was one. After all, wouldn't the angel help him out of this situation? His mother always told him that things always happened for a reason; that one's experiences were always planned for one's growth. It was the way one lived through it that showed true character.

But was this really one of those times? What good could come out of being the captive of an assassin who was trying to teach him how to become one as well?

"Slade, how come you don't believe in God?" asked Dick, looking over at the man. Slade merely gave him a dubious expression, his eyebrow lifting heavily. "I mean, there's the Bible after all. There's some proof there."

Slade shook his head and stared at Dick with his hard unwavering eye.

"I've told you before, haven't I? People will create morals to stand by all the time. But in the end, they'll do what suits them. For all you know, the Bible could be merely a work of fiction. Wouldn't be the first and is certainly not the last."

"I don't know about that," disagreed Dick. "There are multiple accounts from different writers. And besides, believing in God is a little different than that, don't you think?"

"I am past finished with this conversation," said Slade in a curt tone. "Where are you going with this?"

Dick squirmed under the hard look that Slade was giving him.

"N–nowhere… I was just thinking. My mother taught me some things when I was a kid."

"No offence to the memory of your mother, but I'm an Atheist; thus, so are you," said Slade, his grey blue eye glinting as if he suggested that Dick say otherwise. He lifted his newspaper back up and continued to read in a manner that totally said that this was the end of the conversation.

"What if I wanted to be a Christian?" asked Dick tentatively.

"Not in my house," said Slade, not even looking at Dick.

"But Wintergreen's a Christian—_ouch!_"

Slade had swiftly once again reached over to Dick and sharply tugged onto his earlobe.

"I keep telling you to show some respect around here. Don't make me remind you again or you'll be eating your dinner standing up," snapped Slade, his eye glinting dangerously. Dick rubbed his now twice abused ear, trying to get rid of the sharp pain that was shooting through it.

"Sorry, sir. But I was saying that _Mr._ Wintergreen is a Christian and you let him live here."

"Just because he believes in God doesn't mean he's a Christian," retorted Slade. "He could be Jewish for all you know."

"But he's not wearing that hat thing," protested Dick, making a motion with hands to his head.

"A Kippah, child," said Wintergreen helpfully.

"Yeah, that."

"So suddenly one has to show outward appearance to make it apparent of their beliefs?" asked Slade in a mocking tone. The man scoffed and shook his head. "This is ridiculous. This is the most ludicrous conversation I've had in years."

Dick chewed on his lower lip; wondering if he should continue. Slade did not look interested in this at all, obviously; not to mention he was looking more and more irritated by the whole thing by the second. It was clear that this tactic wasn't working. But Dick couldn't stop now. He had to try.

For his mother.

"But my mother taught me stuff," said Dick, feeling extremely nervous now. "She would've wanted me to be, you know, Christian. She taught me about the ten commandments." Slade gave him a raised eyebrow and Dick continued quickly, "You know, 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.' I think that means don't lie."

"You've broken that one," said Slade, giving him a wry smirk. "Quite a bit, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but nobody's perfect…" pouted Dick, swallowing once. Of course, the man would point out his faults right now. "Besides, I think I want to be Christian, you know."

"Dick," drawled Slade warningly, his eye turning dangerous.

"I think that's the belief system I want to live my life by," said Dick, trying to sound philosophical. "Oh, and there's others. Like, 'Thou shalt not steal.'"

"I'm warning you, Dick," said Slade, his tone completely icy. "Don't push this right now. I'm _not_ in the mood."

Dick pressed on through the deadly glare and tone that he was receiving from Slade, knowing full well he was entering dangerous ground. But he seriously hoped that Slade would understand where he was coming from with this. Wintergreen just looked mildly amused through all this.

"A–and, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"

Slade's eye widened with his fury as he took a deep breath through his nose. He slammed his hands onto the table, crushing the paper; the sound reverberating throughout the room. Dick flinched visibly, his eyes wide. Slade stood to his full height, which towered over the table. Dick felt even smaller than ever.

"That's it. You're deliberately being difficult," snapped Slade, his nostrils flaring once as he glared down on him. "This whole conversation has been utterly ridiculous. Angels, Bibles, and whatnot."

Dick pulled back to cower in his chair slightly, his head down.

"No, I'm not. I'm just talkin—"

"You are deliberately trying to aggravate me and you know it."

"No, seriously," started Dick, looking up at Slade and hoping that he was looking meek. "I'm really just trying to point something out."

"What's your point, then?" snapped Slade.

"I dunno…" murmured Dick, lowering his head again. "I just was trying to point out that maybe some people believe other things. Like you're respectful of Mr. Wintergreen and I was hoping that maybe you would respect that with me…" Dick trailed off and looked up at Slade hopefully.

Slade looked infuriated. Dick's heart thudded against his chest. The way Slade was looking reminded him all too well of days that Slade had promised would never come back.

But then again, maybe Dick just pushed the man over his edge.

Slade strode around the table and grabbed Dick by the underarm, roughly pulling him to his feet. Dick's eyes widened and he put dead weight on his feet, trying to pull away.

"No, no," pleaded Dick softly, completely frightened at the fury in Slade's eye.

"Gentle," murmured Wintergreen, bringing his mug to his lips.

"Oh, I will. But the punishment for this kind of disrespectful _crap_ won't be. I am _done_ with this nonsense," barked Slade, half dragging Dick away. Dick noticed that he was being pulled to his bedroom. His heart quickened, beginning to palpitate in his chest.

No, no, no, no, this wasn't good. While he was pretty sure what was going through Slade's mind, a part of Dick was terrified that the man was going to revert back. Would he beat him again like before? He sure looked livid enough. Had Dick totally screwed everything up? Was this Slade's limit?

But the man had promised him, hadn't he? Yet, Slade had been unpredictable recently. He could've changed back without Dick knowing.

"Please, sir," cried Dick louder, grabbing at the man's arm in desperation. He leaned backwards, trying to delay Slade – not really succeeding, however. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. I swear! Please… Please don't…"

Dick trailed off and glanced at the floor for a moment, before looking back up into Slade's eye.

Slade was completely irritated. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this sort of nonsense. Why couldn't the boy obey the first time around? Hadn't Slade warned him to stop? But the boy just continued on with this conversation after Slade had made it apparent that he was _done_ with it. He had little patience for this kind of crap; especially around this time of year.

Slade stopped his march and turned his head to look down at the boy. Dick was looking up at him with pleading bright eyes, their blue color radiating fear and repentance. He narrowed his eye as he stared at the boy. Dick bit his lower lip and glanced fearfully past Slade, no doubt towards his bedroom door.

"Are you… gonna… you know…" Dick trailed off again and looked thoroughly fearful. It was strange to Slade. The boy still seemed rather afraid – almost terrified. Usually the boy was apprehensive before punishment, but he was never this frightened. What, did he think he was going to get beaten or something? Hadn't Slade been proving to the boy he wasn't going to beat him ever again?

"Slade," came Wintergreen's voice inside Slade's ear. There was a slight tinge of static before it cleared. "I think he's worried you're going to lapse back to beating him. You did look absolutely terrifying when you rounded on him. Just like old times. Honestly, I've told you before that you can't discipline the boy in your anger."

Slade wanted to nod at this; but avoided during so, as it would only confuse the boy who was staring up at him with those glimmering, fearful orbs. Slade pursed his lips together as he watched the boy in his grasp. He took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten in attempt to reel back his anger. He noticed that Dick wasn't trying to dart away or rip out of his grasp. Oh, yes; he was resisting, but the boy was acting more like a naughty little child who knew he was in trouble. But the fear ran much deeper than that. Slade could see it in his eyes.

Wintergreen was right; as usual.

Slade released his grip on Dick and folded his arms to sternly look down at the boy. Dick's hand rubbed against the spot on his arm that had been clutched as he fearfully looked up into Slade's eye.

"What do you think?" asked Slade softly, but his tone was anything but soft. Dick's lips trembled.

"I'm sorry… I was only… I wasn't trying to be disrespectful…" murmured Dick, looking down at the ground. There was a long moment of silence. Blast it, why'd the boy have to be so scared like this? Well, there was one way to clear the air. Slade tried not to smirk as he began to rub the fur that grew on his chin in the form of his goatee.

"I should… I really should, you know," said Slade, making his tone sound regretful. Playing the boy like this was always interesting. Dick really was easy to string along at times.

Dick looked up, his eyes filled with uncertain confusion.

"Should what?"

"Spank—I mean, wallop you." There was a responding wince and flush from the boy, but then his eyes widened as he realized what Slade had said. "I really should. You were deliberately trying to get a rise out of me, knowing full well where I stood on this matter; even after I warned you a few times."

The boy's eyes widened even more. There was a ripple effect that went through his body; a visible wave of relief going through him. But then it was soon replaced with a deep look of anxiety as he glanced nervously back towards his bedroom.

Well, it was extremely obvious what the boy was thinking. Slade really needed to train the boy to contain and conceal his emotions better. He was easier to read than a children's book. Finally, Dick looked up at Slade; a polite, submissive look filling his bright eyes as a – almost – pout protruded on his lips as he spoke up.

"I wasn't trying to get a rise out of you, sir," said Dick. "I was merely hoping to compromise with you… maybe…" He trailed off and looked hopefully into Slade's eye.

Slade raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything to that. He continued to observe Dick for a long moment. Slade almost hoped for some advice from Wintergreen, but of course couldn't verbally express that.

Almost as if his thoughts were heard, Wintergreen's voice filled his ear.

"I'd let him off with a warning, Slade. He's been quite good and while, yes, you should remain consistent, I think right now his intentions were not willful, but merely trying to – as he said – compromise with you. And you have to admit, you've been rather awful recently. You really shouldn't be so snappy with him."

Slade almost nodded in agreement, but caught himself. He was thinking along the same lines, but it was nice to have a second opinion. And he most certainly had _not_ been awful or snappy. Blast that old man. Slade was definitely going to speak to him on that.

"I'm letting you off with a warning," said Slade, letting his eye glint slightly. "But the next time you pull a stunt like this, you and I will have a nice discussion in your room. A _painful_ one."

Hope flooded in Dick's eyes as he smiled. He nodded in agreement.

"Yes, sir. I swear I won't do this again."

"All right, all right; come on now," said Slade in exasperation, clasping Dick by the shoulder and pushing him back to the kitchen. He placed his hand on the boy's middle back as he continued to push him forward. "Our dinner is probably getting cold by now."

He expected the boy to quicken his steps to the kitchen, but he didn't. He walked slowly, almost the point of leaning back on Slade's hand. Slade didn't say anything about it as they entered the kitchen. Wintergreen looked completely unperturbed by the whole event. Slade honestly wanted to sigh over the whole matter. The boy truly was exhausting. He had almost forgotten what it was like dealing with a precocious child.

Sometimes he had to wonder if Dick was more trouble than his previous brood combined. Surely seemed that way.

With one final pat on the boy's upper back, Slade sat down at the table in his chair. Dick did the same and began to eat with a soft smile on his face. He looked almost content.

Slade found it mildly interesting that the boy had tried to bring in religion into the whole matter, while at the same time irked about it. Although, he was a little surprised to hear that Mary Grayson had taught him some things. But since Dick had lost his parents at such a young age, Slade doubted that he really remembered much. Slade truly felt it was Batman who drilled morals into the boy's head.

The boy's memory couldn't be that good. Time forgets, after all.

Dinner continued for awhile more. There was light conversation between Slade and Wintergreen, but nothing major and nothing memorable. Dick was silent through it all. Slade was once again reading his paper when he noticed that the boy seemed tired.

Dick's eyes began to droop slightly. Slade acted as if he was reading his paper while really keeping his eye on the boy. Dick breathed in slightly as he closed his eyes temporarily. A moment later, he popped them open again as if in the effort to avoid falling asleep. But then, those eyelids would once again begin to slide down over those glittering blue eyes. Slade lifted his paper somewhat to hide the smirk that was lifting his lips without his full permission.

Maybe they'll do something easy tonight after dinner. The boy truly looked too tired to do any sparring. The way he was nodding off was really ador—_interesting_; very interesting. Although, by the looks of it, he'd probably fall asleep during any studying, too. But it really was too early in the day to send him off to bed. He'd be up at the very least, four o'clock in the morning – not good at all.

There was another bob of Dick's head before it snapped back up; his eyes blinking blearily.

"Dick," started Slade, keeping his voice soft as to not startle the boy. Dick blinked and straightened slightly, looking at Slade expectantly; although, his eyes looked a bit glazed over. "Why don't we do some studying tonight?"

"Oh… why?" asked Dick with a tilt of his head. Somehow, Slade was reminded of a curious kitten, but he quickly put that out of his mind.

_Why indeed? Perhaps because you look like you're about to get close and personal with the remains of your dinner._

"Just thought we changed things around," said Slade with an offhanded wave of his hand. He set his newspaper down and gestured to Dick's plate. "Are you done?"

There was a nod.

"Well, let's go, then," said Slade, standing up from the table. Slade couldn't hold back the smirk that was spreading across his face as he heard the child's submissive, yet hopeful voice.

"Yes, sir."

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty: Christmas at the Haunt – As the season of giving approaches, both Dick and Slade try to decide what they should do about the holiday.

**Author's Notes:** Haha, Dick's playing hard ball with Slade. XD But unfortunately for him, Slade loves to tease. LOL

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	30. Christmas at the Haunt

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you all so much for the wonderful support and reviews. You're all awesome! ^^

*giggles* I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. I was giggling though. I thought I did foreshadow this possibility when I said that Mary was a Christian. Haha!

Interestingly enough, I always wondered why in fanfics Dick never tried to go a step higher when it came to the fight on morals. I thought it'd be logical to go towards a higher source; try to do anything to convince Slade where he stood on such things. So, once again like his little phobia with guns, I decided to go a step further with the subject of morals; having Mary ingrain such things into his heart at an early age, way before Batman came onto the scene.

Glad everyone enjoyed it. ^^

I love this next chapter. So much fun, so much everything. I wonder, will I be able to move your hearts and get you to cry during this? I know I almost did at times.

Well, we shall see.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty**

**Christmas at the Haunt**

**December 20th, 2008. Saturday, 11:43am.**

Dick tapped his pencil on the edge of his paper. His expression was in deep concentration as he worked. His leg bounced, rapidly bopping up and down endlessly.

It was thoroughly irritating.

Slade had told the boy to hold still, countlessly; but back again it would start – that incessant bouncing was enough to drive anyone mad. How many times did Slade have to tell the boy to hold that blasted leg still already?

"Dick, for the last time. _Hold still_," said Slade, rubbing a hand over his face, completely exasperated. Dick blinked and the annoying bouncing ceased – _finally_.

"Oh… Sorry, sir."

"Mmmm…" murmured Slade. He glance at the clock that was on the kitchen wall. The written test he was giving Dick would be over in just two minutes. Afterwards, they'd have about a half an hour until lunch.

Dick put his mechanical pencil beneath his nose, holding it temporarily with a protruding upper lip as he studied his paper.

That blasted bouncing was beginning again.

"Time," said Slade; a minute earlier than was actually so. Dick sighed with relief as he handed the two test papers to Slade. The boy leaned back against his chair, balancing the pencil beneath his nose as he stared up at the ceiling; his arms dangling lazily at his sides.

Slade glanced at the two papers; back to back as well for a total of four test pages. At just a mere glance, Slade could tell that Dick only had fifty percent of the answers correct – which was extremely unusual for the boy. He knew all this stuff by now. Dick was exceptionally intelligent after all – one of the prodigies to grace the world with their presence.

So why the terrible work right now?

"Fifty percent," said Slade, tossing the papers back at the boy. Dick groaned; the pencil sliding to the floor as he collapsed his forehead to the kitchen table with a dull _thump_.

If that—now _those_—blasted bouncing legs had anything to say… Well, Slade had his answer.

Stir crazy.

Normally, Slade would force the boy to correct his mistakes, but it was obvious that they just weren't going to get anywhere at that moment. Something was off with the boy this morning. Perhaps too much energy? Dick rolled his head back and forth on the surface of the table.

Ah well.

"Lunch is soon," said Slade. "Until then, go take a break, amuse yourself, or whatever."

Dick's head popped up.

"R–really?"

Slade leaned an elbow onto the table, resting his head in his hand, and did a flittering motion the fingers of his free hand.

"Really. Go, before I change my mind."

The boy let out a whoop and bolted to his feet. He darted to the basement door, nearly tearing it open, before he ran down the stairs. Why Slade had the fleeting desire to shout that the boy go slower so he wouldn't trip down those stairs, he didn't know. But he quickly squashed it. Dick was an acrobat – he wasn't going to _trip_. Please. What a foolish thought.

Slade sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

Things… were getting better. Over fourteen weeks now. But it was the past ten weeks that truly mattered. Since the promising Dick that he wouldn't beat him, things had gotten a thousand fold better. It took time for the boy to stop looking so nervous around Slade, but now he was slowly getting used to the change – slowly beginning to trust that Slade would keep his word.

The boy was also opening up to Slade a lot more. He wasn't so skittish around him. The boy was also more obedient and less willful. Slade hadn't had to fully punish the boy for a few weeks now; well, there were those more than occasional reprimands needed for back talk, but the boy did pretty well. He was a boy, after all.

Slade was also deeply aware of the boy's need for casual physical affection. Moments when the boy seemed to get worked up over something, whether it be stress or otherwise, a simple clasp on the shoulder usually calmed him down. It was the most perplexing thing to Slade, but he did it anyways since it worked.

Slade was also noticing something else.

The spitfire and defiance that the boy had possessed while behind the mask of Robin had dimmed slightly. Yes, it was still there and the boy was still extremely hot headed at times or was quick to assume things, but much of the time he was meek and submissive. There was also an intense softness, even kindness to the boy. Slade hadn't counted on such a difference. He had to wonder if the boy had really created an alter ego complete with stronger personality traits. There were quite a few differences at times, but not too much. Subtle differences like when the boy ducked his head at times when he was nervous or embarrassed.

But no matter which ego the boy took on, whether it was Robin or Dick Grayson, he was still the same boy with fire, spirit, and intelligence.

One who had seemed to have taken to his fate rather well. There were no talks about escape. He didn't seem to be simmering in anger like he had been the first few weeks. He was very content and, at times, seemed happy. The boy didn't even fight on anything he was taught – except the gun education, but that had become whimpers and whines now.

That had definitely been a set back, the boy's phobia with guns; but Slade was more annoyed that the event had happened to the boy. It irritated him that Batman had allowed such a thing to happen. Slade might be an assassin, but he had his limits when it came to woman and children. And it was sheer stupidity that had gotten that boy shot. Then again, who was Slade to talk? He had his own terrible mistakes that haunted his past.

But if that stupid bat hadn't been so stubborn, the boy could've avoided such a traumatizing experience. Of course, it would also have meant that it would've been that much harder to spirit Robin away from the nest.

Still…

No, he was _not_ concerned with the boy's mental welfare. Well, he was; but only for his apprentice's welfare. That was all. Of course, that was all. A healthy, content apprentice was an apprentice that did his job and learning well. Yes, Slade very much wanted to keep the boy healthy. He could go years without having to experience the Boy Wonder of Holy Terror again.

_Years_.

Slade didn't look up as he heard Wintergreen come into the room from the basement.

"How did he do?" asked Wintergreen as he began to rummage in the fridge. Slade glanced down at the test papers before swiping his face once more with his hand.

"Poorly."

Wintergreen stopped, straightening as he looked back at Slade with a worried expression.

"Did he really? Isn't that unusual?"

"Indeed," nodded Slade. "That's why that stir crazy boy is off doing whatever he's doing at the moment."

"Ah, so that's why he's playing on the high bar right now."

"Is he? Good, he'll burn off that extra energy."

Wintergreen looked pleased and he continued to pull out ingredients for tortillas; placing cheese, avocadoes, tomatoes, salsa, and floor tortillas onto the countertop.

"Well, that was nice of you."

"Mmm."

"You know," began Wintergreen amiably. "Christmas is just around the corner. Maybe you ought to do something nice for the child."

"You know I hate this time of year, more than ever now," said Slade with a deep frown. His eye narrowed suddenly as he looked over at Wintergreen. "You aren't thinking of doing anything… are you?"

"Oh… No more than usual," said Wintergreen with a lilt in his voice.

"Will, I'm warning you—"

"Slade," started Wintergreen, cutting him off quickly as he turned to face him. "Richard is a fourteen year old child who doesn't have any family and is away from his friends. What do you think he'd be doing if he were with them?"

"I'm not doing this with you, Will," said Slade, standing up from the table. He turned away to leave, but Wintergreen quickly blocked Slade with his body; his arms folded as he stared at him. Slade sighed deeply and turned his head to the side. This blasted old man could be so annoying sometimes. It wasn't as if his body could really stop him. But offending the old man didn't have pleasant after effects.

Slade sighed at sharp look in the man's eyes and relented.

"He'd be doing some kind of Christmas cheer crap, I have no doubt."

"Something to that effect," said Wintergreen, smiling slightly. "And just what else would he be doing?"

"Will—"

"Oh, come on; this isn't rocket science, Slade. Just answer the question."

"You are completely infuriating sometimes," snapped Slade, glaring at the old man. "You know that, right?"

"That's not the correct answer."

Slade took a deep breath, trying very hard not to lose his temper. This was ridiculous. Totally and infuriately ridiculous.

"He'd be exchanging gifts, I'm sure."

"Well then, why not get the child a gift?"

Slade let out a scoffing laugh. "What exactly am I to say to the boy? 'Here, thanks for spending Christmas with us?' Will, it's not like he wants to be here. He's just accepted the fact that he can't get away."

"Well, isn't that what you're trying to do? Make him _want_ to stay?"

"I am not going to bribe him. This is absolutely ridiculous," said Slade, turning his gaze away.

_Besides, what on earth could I give the boy? It's not like he doesn't have his needs provided for already. What else is there for him? What, a_ teddy bear?_ Please._

"Well, you did with your other three children," said Wintergreen with a light shrug, a mischievous smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "I honestly don't see why you can't with your fourth."

"_Will!_" snapped Slade, affronted. "He's not my child!"

"Oh? I keep forgetting that… You know my memory—"

"Oh, your memory is just _fine_. Don't try to pull your 'old man' side on me now," said Slade, his eye glinting dangerously.

"Well, he most certainly is a child and you do have him in your possession," countered Wintergreen, that annoying smile still tugging on his wrinkled lips. He began to look thoughtful as he continued, "Put those two together… Wouldn't that make him _your_ child?"

Slade shook his head, not even bothering to dignify that with answer.

"Why are you doing this, Will?"

"I think it'll be good for the child. Christmas to children is a very magical, special time," said Wintergreen. Slade tried very hard not to scoff at this, but it slipped through anyways. "Look, if you're really trying to sway him towards your ways, you should try to make life seem normal. This would really make things far more familiar between the two of you. If you think about it, you're going to be living with him for a long time if he becomes your heir. Might as well set up some traditions with him that could bring the two of you closer."

Slade scoffed again, shaking his head; unable to believe what he was hearing. "This is just ridiculous."

"You know," began Wintergreen thoughtfully, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "Antarctica is beautiful this time of the year. Maybe I should press your tux and you can go visit _family_."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sure you'll fit right in with the penguins. You'll definitely walk like them…"

"That's blackmail, Will."

"It's the only way I have at getting to you," said Wintergreen with a deep set smile.

"I'll do my own laundry, then," said Slade stiffly.

"Ah, but can you find the laundry detergent?" asked Wintergreen, a wry smile lifting his wrinkled lips. Slade growled. He crossed his arms as he glared at the old man.

"You're impossible, you know that, right?"

"No more than you are," replied Wintergreen with a light shrug. "Come on, Slade. I'll be going out tomorrow and I'll get a few festive things to make this place a little more pleasant. Why don't you think about something you could give to the boy and I'll get it for you."

"I wasn't ever good at this in the first place," argued Slade; running a frustrated hand through his hair. "What makes you think I'll be good at it now?"

"It's the thought that counts."

"I swear, if I ever hear that phrase again…"

"While Richard does possess a lot of Grant's qualities, not to mention his appearance, I think his personality is more like Joseph. Why don't you think along those lines?"

Slade turned his head away. Something more like Joey… Grant was always one for hunting gadgets or new weaponry. He was relatively easy to please. Joey, on the other hand, was much more sensitive. He always appreciated gifts that came from the heart.

Wonderful…

A gift from the heart? Good grief, what next? Wintergreen had better not ask him to gather around a Christmas tree and sing carols. No way on this _earth_ that was happening in _his_ house. Over his dead body, _no_. Luckily, if Wintergreen somehow got that into his senile head there was certainly nothing stopping Slade from setting the offense foliage on fire.

Could always use the firewood, after all.

Well, Slade knew what to give Joey. He had been into art and music from a very young age. But Dick… the boy was completely different. What would he appreciate? Slade hadn't ever seen him into art, but that very much might not be true. He was very driven when it came to his studies, but since Slade was very aware that he had already graduated from high school at such an early age, getting him supplies along those ends was basically useless.

So, that won't work.

Hmm…

Dick was a sentimental boy, there was no doubt about that. Only two weeks in his capture and the boy have actually come to thank Slade for returning some of his personal belongings. Slade had gathered the contents easily, but it had taken him some time to make sure he had what he wanted. His music system and gaming system had been easy to find, but it was the more personal effects that Slade had been truly searching for. It took him about ten minutes before he found the jewelry box. It was definitely a woman's item, but old.

Slade had assumed that it must've belonged to the boy's mother.

Thus, he took that as well. But what had surprised Slade was the stuff animal that had been buried in the back of his closet – carefully set, though. It was merely hidden from prying eyes, but kept safe. It was old with faded coloring and matted fur, yet held a soft appearance. Slade had vaguely wondered if it belonged to a sister, but he immediately knew that wasn't the case. So, it had to belong to the boy.

Which was so strange to Slade. Why would Dick keep something like that? It was just a ratted old toy – specifically for a little child; a _girl_, even. Slade had never imagined that Dick would be the type to hold onto such things, but here Slade was proven wrong. It must've have been extremely special to the boy; thus, once again, he had decided to bring that as well.

And the boy had been truly thankful for those things; items that had belonged to him, but because they were brought to him out of kindness, Dick noticed the gesture and greatly appreciated it.

Slade took a deep breath and nodded to Wintergreen.

"I'll think about it," said Slade in an even tone. He pushed past Wintergreen without another word, walking down the hallway to reach his room. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. What he was about to do he wanted no interruptions nor did he want Wintergreen or the boy to walk in on him.

Slade knew exactly what he was going to do.

ooOOOOOoo

**December 24th, 2008. Wednesday, 3:12pm.**

Dick was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It was really strange thinking of spending Christmas here. But there wasn't any Christmas decorations or any festive music. It just felt like any other day and not Christmas Eve.

Dick had mixed feeling on the whole matter. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to have a 'Merry Christmas' with Slade. But it felt weird not celebrating it. Christmas was a special, even sacred time of the year to Dick. It was a time where people seemed to be just a little nicer, just a little kinder, and just a little more generous. It was Dick's favorite time of the year, in fact.

Christmas had always been a special time for the Grayson home. Mary had strong traditions, especially due to her beliefs. Mary dealt with the spiritual side of the season while John dealt with the major festivities. It had been a delightful time. Dick could still remember listening to his mother reading him the Christmas story on Christmas Eve by the dim light of the living room; where the tinkling lights of the Christmas tree were the only source for light. Yet Mary always managed to read perfectly.

His father would tell him stories about Santa Claus and Dick loved hearing them over and over again. They always told about a hero that sacrificed himself for the greater good – to lift someone else up to bring happiness to their hearts. Dick always wanted to aspire to become someone like that. He adored those times.

So, when Dick spent his first Christmas at Wayne Manor, it was a completely different feeling. When Dick had asked what Santa Claus would get Bruce, he was told that there was no Santa Claus. Dick remembered Alfred scolding Bruce for telling him that. The whole situation just made future Christmases awkward for Dick. But there was no doubt that they had been nice and Dick always received lots of presents.

But to be honest, Dick didn't really care about gifts. He really cared about the special feelings that came with the season. It wasn't about the gifts; it was about sharing traditions with your loved ones and bringing smiles to others.

Dick rolled onto his side so that he was facing the white wall. He rested his arm beneath his head. He didn't really have any loved ones left in his life, except for his friends. He deeply cared for Bruce and Alfred, too; but if Dick was completely honest with himself, he was alone in the world. He was an orphan without any family. He might be Richard Grayson, but the only reason anyone knew his name was because he was taken in by Bruce Wayne. People would've long forgotten the Flying Graysons.

Life was feeling strange to Dick. It was weird that he felt so accepting of his situation. But it wasn't like he could escape. Not even the walls could be blown up – not that he ever planned on testing it again. Slade had been right; he could've hurt Wintergreen in the blast. Dick hadn't been thinking straight when he threw that explosive and he was thankful that no one got hurt – besides the terrible beating Slade had given him.

That first month now seemed like a blur to Dick. All he could remember were inconsistency, pain, and fear. Now with Slade attempting to be more patient and more… Well, whatever you called his new discipline plan – life seemed almost…

Normal.

Well, as normal as life could get being the captive of a sadistic, criminal psychopath.

Dick would say that, but it didn't feel that way anymore. Slade felt more human to Dick. The man ate breakfast and read the newspaper a lot. He chuckled. He teased. He was patient. He nursed Dick back to health even when he was a royal pain in the butt – Dick admitted it.

And sometimes he was soft.

He was doing it more. Just a simple clasp on the arm or shoulder. It was always in a reassuring and non-threatening way. There was nothing Dick could do to stop the calm that flowed through him after such a touch. It always made him feel just a little better.

The more Dick thought on it, the more he realized that he really was settling into the mindset of never being free from here. It gave him mixed feelings. Since Slade really was becoming normal – even though he was stern and demanded total obedience – Dick found himself unable to fight against him. He didn't want to anymore. He almost wished that he could have both lives.

If he had to stay here, he'd at least like to see his friends sometimes. He knew they must be frantic with worry.

But it just wasn't possible. Dick knew he couldn't ask for the impossible. But he couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like to have both lives. How strange it would be. The Boy Wonder being trained by Slade the assassin. Dick would probably be able to take down his enemies far greater now with the intense training he'd been receiving the past few months.

But it wasn't like that'd ever happen.

Nonetheless, he felt a desire to make life feel a little more normal. He needed normalcy in this situation, now more than ever. But what could he do? Ask Slade if they could do something different for Christmas? Dick honestly didn't feel like getting laughed at right to his face. He had no doubt that the man would fully and completely break out into full blown laughter over that request.

So, instead… What could Dick do to make it seem a little like Christmas? Even with the smallest thing; something that would bring a little joy to the place.

Dick supposed there was always a gift. But there was no way he had anyway of getting anything or preparing anything. He obviously couldn't leave this place. He doubted Slade would be interested in anything like a little piece of writing. His mother always appreciated his poems or stories when he wrote them for her – no matter how silly or stupid they were from a tiny child. He had some skills in drawing, but he wasn't too grand or anything; and once again, he doubted Slade would be interested in something like that.

There was one thought that came to his mind, but he quickly squashed it. No way; it was a childish thought. Only little kids or lazy teens ever gave those out. How embarrassing to even think of such a thing.

Dick rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Well… it was the thought that counted, wasn't it? It was pretty childish, though. But if Dick put things in it that he knew would please Slade… Then, Dick supposed that he might've made his point with the gift. And he could even make one for Wintergreen, too.

Dick bit his lower lip.

What would he put inside? He didn't really want to put anything that would come back and force him to do something that he didn't want to.

Dick rolled back over onto his side, this time facing the interior of his room. His eyes laid their sights onto the desk table in his room. He bounced his leg nervously; biting his lower lip.

Then, he bolted up and was at the desk in a moment; pulling out multiple sheets of paper, a pen, and a stapler from the desk drawer. There he began to decide what he'd write.

ooOOOOOoo

**December 24th, 2008. Wednesday, 9:34pm.**

"What's going on?"

"No, no, child; keep your eyes closed."

"But—"

There was an aged sigh and Dick felt a strip of cloth cover his eyes, being tied in the back of his back.

"There, now I know you won't peek."

Dick wasn't sure what was going on. He had been called by Wintergreen into the kitchen. Before he left his room, he pocketed his two gifts that he had made for the two men. But the moment he entered the kitchen, Wintergreen had told him to close his eyes.

Something strange was going on.

"What's going on?" asked Dick, a little more insistent this time. He felt disoriented without his eyes open. He didn't like the unsure feeling that was rising in his stomach. He needed something to anchor him.

Then, he felt a hand take him by the wrist. Somehow, Dick knew whose hand it was; recognizing its large size and warmth – and through that, the uncertainty inside Dick's chest began to settle down.

"You'll find out," came Slade's smooth voice.

Thus, Dick felt himself being led away. He could tell he was being pulled towards the stairs down into the basement.

"Watch your step."

Further confusion entered Dick's mind as he carefully walked down the steep stairs. Soon, he felt the stairs turn before he continued down more; Slade's hand steadying him and leading him. Then, Dick felt hard concrete basement floor touch beneath his socked feet.

"Now what?" asked Dick. There was silence as he felt himself being led through the room. He couldn't imagine what the heck was going on. This hadn't ever happened before. Why did this seem like… the two men were showing him a surprise…

Wait, what? No way. No way Slade would—

The blindfold was removed from Dick's eyes.

"You may open them now," said Slade.

Dick slowly opened his eyes, in the which they widened considerably. He was looking through the open door of the living room. In the corner near the kitchen area was a semi large Christmas tree. It was adorned with colorful twinkling lights. Dick stepped into the room before he turned to look back.

Slade was standing behind him with a slight uncertain expression on his face, while Wintergreen was smiling broadly. Then, Wintergreen entered the room and patted Dick on the back.

"We can decorate the tree together. Sound fun?"

Dick could only nod, too overcome. He received a smile from Wintergreen before the old man went the tree. He placed a box of decorations onto the countertop, along with a tall bottle of wine that he had retrieved from the cabinet.

Dick was shocked; floored beyond imagination. He looked up at Slade, trying to study the man and unlock any secrets or answers that he might hold for this strange phenomenon. As if Slade had sensed Dick's questions, he spoke up.

"Will mentioned something about Christmas and you know how he gets," said Slade, looking hesitant. The man rubbed the back of his neck with a hand for a moment. "There's no stopping him once he gets something into that stubborn mind of his."

Dick smirked lightly.

"So, you really are a Scrooge after all."

Dick received a raised eyebrow for that. Before the man could answer back, Dick quickly pulled out the gift he had prepared. The papers got a little ruffled from being inside his pocket, so he straightened them out as best as he could, before slowly handing the stapled strips of paper to the man.

Slade looked a little surprised, but he accepted it.

"What's this?"

Dick tried not let his face flush and redden at the childish nature of the gift, so he attempted to shrug it off.

"Just a little gift…"

Now Slade looked completely startled.

"Um… It's not like I could get something, so I decided on the only thing that you'd like. It's really stupid, but… I guess it's the thought that counts, you know."

As Slade continued to stare as him with a widened eye, Dick couldn't help the warmth that continued to flood into his face. The gift was honestly embarrassing, but it showed that he was willing to get along with the man and not just because he controlled everything. The last time he had given a gift like this, it had been when he was a little kid and it had been to his mother.

Slade looked down at the gift as Dick watched. Dick knew what was on the cover. It said, 'Request Booklet' – there wasn't enough money in the world to pay Dick to write 'Coupon Book'. As Slade looked through the seven pages, including the cover, the man's expression changed from shocked to a soft smile; an unknown, powerful emotion glittering inside that steel grey blue eye. At times, amusement flittered through his expression.

Dick had written six things that he'd promise to do when presented with one of the sheets of paper. One of them he had even said that he'd shoot a gun a target. A non-human, non-animal – living or dead – target; not to mention a target that didn't resemble such things either. He knew he had to cover all his bases with the man. Others dealt with perfect obedience; however, this excluded killing, shooting, stealing, or anything that would break the laws of the land or put people into harm's way.

Once again, Dick made _very_ sure he covered any loopholes that Slade could potentially worm through. But, nonetheless, he did hope Slade would appreciate the effort.

Slade let out a deep chuckle as he came to the last page. He closed the booklet and placed a hand onto Dick's shoulder; a smile spreading through his face.

"Thank you," said Slade, approval flooding through his tone. Dick smiled, soaking it all in. He loved doing stuff like this – making others happy. At that moment, it didn't matter who Slade was, so long as Dick had been able to make another human being happy.

"I also made one for Mr. Wintergreen," said Dick, pulling out the other one. Wintergreen's booklet was the same size and included things that Dick could do to help the old man with his housework.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," said Slade, squeezing Dick's shoulder once before he removed his arm. Then, he ruffled Dick's hair roughly before completely withdrawing his hand. Afterwards, Dick walked over the old man, smiling to himself and wondering how messed up his hair must be at that moment. Wintergreen was unpacking a box and unwrapping tissue paper from some glass ornaments. He stopped as Dick approached.

"Mr. Wintergreen, this is for you," said Dick, feeling a little nervous as he handed the slightly rumpled booklet to the old man. Wintergreen accepted it.

"Well, this is a surprise. Oh my, thank you, you dear child," said Wintergreen as he began to look at the gift. A deep smile lifted his entire face as he read the booklet. Once he was finished, he looked up at him and swiftly pulled Dick into a hug. Dick stiffened in shock for a moment, completely unnerved by the sudden show of affection from the old man. But then, Dick smiled and lifted his arms to return it. It felt nice; something he always missed and never could get enough of. This was a wonderful gift in itself.

It was a brief hug, though, and Wintergreen pulled back to clasp a hand on Dick's cheek for a quick moment.

"You are such a sweet boy, you know that, right? So thoughtful."

Dick blushed, feeling embarrassed that the old man was gushing like this. It was just a silly little cou—_request_ booklet; not much, really.

"It wasn't much, sir," mumbled Dick, ducking his head slightly. The hand withdrew finally.

"You may… call me Will," said Wintergreen with a smile. Dick lifted his head and returned the favor.

"Thanks, Will," said Dick, shyly testing it out. Then, he tried to offer the same in the hopes that the old man would stop referring to him as a child. "You can call me Dick or Richard, if you want."

The old man smiled.

"We'll see."

Dick let a soft smile spread his lips, figuring the old man was probably a tougher nut to crack than Slade. He turned for a moment to look at the tree. The lights were like little stars in his eyes, twinkling happily.

"Thank you for the gift." Before Dick could turn back to Wintergreen, the old man continued. "I'll be sure to put it to good use… Richard."

Dick looked at the bottom of the tree, a wider smile spreading through his face. He felt acknowledgement flow through him, as if the old man calling him by his name made him feel that Wintergreen had finally acknowledged him – even though the old man probably had since the first day.

"Dick, come sit on the couch for a moment," came Slade's voice. Dick turned and obeyed; walking to the couch and sitting down. He looked around for a moment and watched as Slade pulled a white binder from off the shelf.

Slade came and sat down on the couch with the binder in his hand. There was a moment where he looked at it, before he slowly handed it to him. Dick accepted it and looked up at Slade curiously.

"This is for you," said Slade in a soft undertone. He looked a little hesitant for a moment, but soon he cleared himself of it – his impassive features sliding into place. Dick was actually surprised that the man had gotten him something. He hadn't been expecting it. Wintergreen's little Christmas celebration kind of just popped out of nowhere.

Dick looked down at the binder and slowly opened the cover. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes suddenly burned and before he could stop it, a tear slid down his cheek. He fingered the first page, tracing it softly. More tears began to build up in his eyes and he didn't even bother to stop them from trailing down his cheeks.

It was a picture of his mother. He was about five year old and she was holding him in her arms from behind. They were out in a meadow with hundreds of dandelions surrounding them. She looked so radiant and happy. His younger self looked just as happy.

The image began to get blurry in Dick's vision as further tears flooded through. He tried his hardest to hold back the choking sob that threatened to burst forth at any moment. He turned to face Slade, not caring that his face was completely filled with his tears.

"_Thank you_," whispered Dick, his voice cracking once before he managed his gratitude. Slade looked uneasy for a moment, but then he gave an acknowledging nod.

"I… I thought you'd appreciate something like this more than anything that I could buy," said Slade, sounding almost as if he were justifying his actions for giving such a personal gift. "There are plenty more in there."

"How—how did you manage to find these?" asked Dick in a soft voice, finally managing to speak. "I wasn't able to get much of their belongings. Only those two things that you brought from the tower – that's all I have of them. I didn't even have so much as a picture of my mother and father. They… the police foster care I was at never tried to make an effort to get them. And by the time Bruce removed me from there, it was too late."

An unusual soft smile spread through Slade's features.

"I can find anything."

Dick smiled through his tears.

"Is that your way of saying it's a secret?"

"No. But I did search extremely hard for them. A few strings were pulled to get them. Simple, really. There are more in there, if you wish to see them."

Dick nodded, quickly wiping away his tears with the palm of his hand. Slade made to stand up and leave, but Dick suddenly and automatically grabbed the man by the wrist. He quickly withdrew his hand once he realized what he had done. Slade gave him a questioning look.

"Y–you can stay," whispered Dick. "If you want…"

Slade looked startled by the request, but sat back down next to him without another word. Somehow, without even realizing it, Dick scooted a few inches closer so that the man could see the pictures with him; their shoulders bumping in contact. Placing the binder in between them, Dick turned the page and couldn't stop the small choking laugh that escaped from his lips as he saw the contents. There were more pictures of his mother and his five year old self playing in the meadow of dandelions. A flood of memories filled Dick's mind; ones he had long forgotten.

"Mama and Papa took me out to the country," whispered Dick, remembering. "We were touring the western states and a few weeks after my birthday, we went out exploring." Dick quickly put a hand to his mouth, lifting his fingers over his eyes once, as another wave of tears flowed past his defenses. He wasn't even bothering to hold them back, but his voice was having a difficult time speaking. Finally, he dropped his hand to trace his mother's delighted face.

"Mama loved dandelions," whispered Dick, his voice breaking once. As he continued, his voice trembled. "She always said that it had to be God's favorite flower, since He plants it everywhere. Papa brought a camera and took tons of pictures of Mama and me playing in a field of these dandelions. It was like a sea of yellow as far as the eye could see. I hadn't ever seen anything like it before. It was amazing."

Dick looked back at Slade.

"Thank you," said Dick, his voice a little stronger now. Slade's eye widened slightly. "Thank you for this gift. It's probably the best gift I've ever gotten in my entire life. It means the world to me. I'll definitely treasure it. Thank you so much."

Dick truly meant those words. He hadn't ever received such a thoughtful gift before. It was certainly surprising to him that the man had managed such a feat. But Dick was beyond grateful that he had. Having these pictures brought back the old memories that had long faded because of time. Old feelings were renewed in his heart and mind. It was very bittersweet, though – there was no doubt about that. But truly these pictures in his hands were worth more than all the riches and fame of the world to Dick.

He was extremely appreciative for such a rich gift.

By the time Dick went through the entire binder, he was completely sobbing; at times his tears coating the plastic covering of the photos; at times his eyes so blurry with his overflowing tears that he couldn't even make out of the images. So many memories, so many old feelings, so many lost days without the comforting hold that his parents once held. Dick closed the binder and clutched it to his chest, wrapping his arms around it and holding onto it like a lifeline; as if trying to anchor himself to the past. He leaned forward and continued to sob deeply; the tears hot as they streamed down his cheeks and into his open mouth.

They were so salty.

It was a complete emotional overdose going through all those photographs. Even after over seven years, it was still an overpowering sorrow that tore apart his soul. The pain of their loss hadn't ever subsided or lessened at all. He longed for them so much; longed to touch them, hear their voices, breathe of their scents. His heart ached for them more than anything.

Why did they have to leave him behind? Why did they have to die?

Such a thing just wasn't fair.

Sometimes, Dick couldn't help but wonder if it had been better if he hadn't known them at all. It was far harder to long and miss something that he hadn't experienced before. Would his heart ache this much for parents he had never known? Would it feel this painful if he had been alone his entire life instead of the brief season he'd had with them?

But Dick knew he couldn't ever give up the memories, the moments he'd had with his parents. No matter how much it hurt, he couldn't forget them.

But it still hurt; it was still painful; almost as if his chest was constricting terribly; tearing, ripping his heart to shredded remains. His sobs intensified as he let the tears soak into his pants.

Would there ever be a time where he could depend on someone else?

A heavy hand rested on his back. It slowly began to rub in a small circular motion. The effect was instantaneous. A shuddering sigh passed through Dick; a calm passing through his entire being. There was a brief moment where he felt unnerved by the fact that he was so dependant on something that required another human being. But then, he accepted it; gratefully, in fact.

He missed his parents so much. There wasn't anything more that he wanted than to be held once more by his mother – even only for just a brief moment. He wanted so much to be held by those soft, yet secure arms; to be enveloped by her subtle gingerbread scent. Seven years without a mother's touch can leave a child starved for such things.

Thus, that large, strong hand on his back was more than enough to still his soul. It was more than enough to bring him peace, comfort – something that was long lost, long forgotten, and long, _long_ needed… and desired. And so, Dick soaked it up like the driest sponge. His breathing calmed almost automatically; but he began to worry that the hand would remove itself now that its job was complete. He honestly hoped that the hand wouldn't move.

He needed it too much right now.

The tears of his agonizing sorrow began to slow down to a small tickling; each fresh tear slipping down the already worn tracks that laced his cheeks. He breathed slowly; every part of his soul soaking in the warmth that came from the hand. Time passed as he stayed there curled up.

But soon, he knew that he'd have to move and that warm hand would withdraw.

Not wanting to experience its withdrawal suddenly, Dick slowly lifted up. He swallowed once as he sat up, his arms still leaning on his legs as they stayed curled around the binder.

The hand, however, did not leave.

Slade leaned forward, his hand still on Dick's back, and grabbed a box of tissues that resided on the coffee table. He proffered it to Dick, who pulled out quite a few thankfully; releasing one of his hands from its tight hold on the binder. Dick began to take care of the residents of his tears from his face.

"Sorry," sniffled Dick finally, after a few moments of cleaning his face and nose. There was a quiet moment before Slade spoke up.

"They died; you miss them," said Slade in a soft, yet flat tone. "Don't apologize for tears of mourning and tears of longing. If you keep your emotions bottled up, they'll destroy you."

"I feel like they'll destroy me anyways," whispered Dick. Slade inclined his head slightly, before he nodded.

"Yes, there will be those times."

"You act as if you have experience," said Dick, looking directly into Slade's grey blue eye. There was a moment where they stayed connected before the eye averted its gaze away from his own; a sudden wave of sorrow passing over the man. Dick suddenly wanted to ask the man to explain further when Wintergreen's belting voice burst into chorus of 'Jingle Bells'.

"Oh dear, he's at it again," said Slade with a sigh. Dick turned slightly to watch the old man happily decorating the tree in the corner of the room near the kitchen. As he decorated, he swayed slightly, singing happily; although, more than a bit off tune. Then, he twirled once, nearly losing his balance before returning to his task cheerfully as if he hadn't just almost fell on his rear end. Dick caught sight of a wine bottle on the edge of the countertop, half full.

"Should we be worried?" asked Dick, his voice cracking slightly; heavily eyeing the wine bottle. He swallowed, hoping to get rid of the remnants of his old sobs.

"No, I don't think so," said Slade, sounding bored; his hand patting once on Dick's back. A tiny wry smirk tried to lift the edges of Slade's mouth. "Well, at least not until he dresses up in a grass shirt and attempts to do a hula mixed with the Macarena."

Dick's mouth dropped as he stared at Slade. There was a long moment before Slade's lips finally gave into the urge and the man snorted, beginning to chuckle heavily. He shook his head and patted Dick's back once again.

"That was a joke, boy."

"Oh…"

Slade's face went impassive as he watched at the old man.

"Besides, he hasn't done that in, oh… ten years."

Dick shot Slade an incredulous look mixed with pure shock. This time Slade fell into the snorting laughter. His hand moved from its location and slid onto Dick's shoulder; squeezing it once while he shook his head.

"Still joking with you, boy," said Slade finally, once he stopped his chuckling – which was verging on laughter. "Honestly, you're too gullible, you know. You're far too easy to tease."

Dick raised an eyebrow before he gave in and let a smile lightly lift his own mouth; tightening his grip on the precious gift in his arms.

He wouldn't ever admit it out loud, but deep down Dick knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this had to be his best Christmas since his parents' deaths – despite present company.

Or perhaps even with present company.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-One: Day of Inebriation – Dick discovers something about Slade and it takes all his courage to ask the question of his heart: 'Who had Slade lost in his life?'

**Author's Notes:** Heheheheheh, I love Wintergreen. I think we all know what's he's going for, hm? XD His lines about "Slade's child" have to be my favorites.

Next chapter holds what some of you all have been waiting for: Slade's past. Fun stuff! ^-^

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	31. Day of Inebriation

**Author's Note:** You're all wonderful. Thank you so much for the reviews. I truly appreciate it. Thanks a bunch! ^^

I am deeply honored to be able to have moved you all so much during that last chapter. That means there's hope for me as a writer yet, don't you think? ^^ Haha, I was joking with my family saying, "I have made my readers cry. I am officially a writer!" XD

And thus, here's the long awaited moment. Hopefully, I'll be able to convey even more emotions. Good luck, guys.

Interestingly enough, pick your favorite emotional song and I swear this'll be worse. XD *did that while writing and editing it*

Aheh…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Day of Inebriation**

**December 29th, 2008. Monday, 7:00 am.**

It was a few days after Christmas that Dick found something off with the entire household. Even the air seemed weighed down by some terrible weight. Dick could actually feel it on his shoulders as if it were trying to break his soul in half. He wasn't sure why he was feeling that way. He was perfectly fine – he had given both Slade and Wintergreen their presents. Sure he hadn't been with the Titans for Christmas, but it hadn't been too bad here. If fact… It had been pretty nice.

And even Slade had given him something – something that was far more precious than he could ever have imagined receiving from the man.

But as Dick walked into the kitchen that morning, he was now fully sure something was off. Wintergreen wasn't at his usual station – the stove. The old man wasn't making breakfast. In fact, the kitchen was empty. Dick poked around, checking to see if there had been any life that morning, but there was nothing different from the night before.

Which meant Wintergreen hadn't come into the kitchen at all.

It was then that Dick caught sight of a note on the kitchen table. He quickly scanned it, his eyes flitting back and forth as he read. Once he finished, he set the note back down onto the table and went to the cabinet. He withdrew a box of cereal and a bowl. After getting a spoon, he grabbed some milk from the fridge. Once he was settled into a chair at the table, he poured his breakfast and ate alone.

The note had been from Wintergreen. The old man said that Slade was giving him the day off; however, Wintergreen wouldn't be able to make breakfast so Dick had to fend for himself.

It wasn't bothering Dick…

Much.

The only noise that flittered through the room were the crunching sounds of his cereal as he chewed. The kitchen clock ticked with every second. Dick dropped his spoon into his bowl and leaned his elbow onto the table, resting his chin in his hand; his gaze deep down into the hallway.

There was no doubt he was feeling a bit lonely. He was used to the three of them sitting at the table and eating together. Yeah, most of the mornings were done in silence or light conversation; but it was the quiet companionship that Dick was so used to that made the unbending silence he was now experiencing just unbearable.

Would he get to see the other two today? Dick wasn't used to being alone. There were some times where he wished for a moment to himself; but to be honest, he was content to have the other men around. Being alone was just awful and lonely. It left him to his thoughts and sometimes they weren't comforting or helpful – _at all_.

Dick returned to his breakfast, eating in the silence; the terrible feeling he had felt when waking up only intensifying. Something just didn't seem right. Something was terribly off.

But there was no way of finding out. Dick really didn't feel like he should check on the two men. What if they were sleeping in today? Disturbing them just didn't seem like something he could do.

So, Dick merely finished up his breakfast, making sure to clean his dishes, and went back to his room. For a few hours or so, he tried to keep himself occupied. He played a game for awhile on his DS, but he quickly got tired of that. It just wasn't as fun without another player. He tried to mess around on his iPod for some time, but like the DS, he quickly got bored.

Dick laid on his bed, looking out into his room; his arm outstretched over the edge of the bed. He clutched his iPod in the hand that hung over the floor. The air was oppressive. He didn't feel depressed, but it almost felt as if the air itself was terribly sorrowed by something. It was bearing down on him, trying to drag him down into the depths.

He rolled over, shoving his iPod underneath his pillow and curling his arms in front; staring at the white wall with glazed eyes. He hated this. What was going on? What was he supposed to do under this weight? A day off wasn't fun when he was by himself. He much rather…

Dick found himself wanting to be with Slade. His thoughts went to that play day that the two of them had. If Dick closed his eyes and pretended, it seemed like a normal day between a…

Something rose inside Dick's chest. Was he really imagining something unimaginable?

Something like that just wasn't possible.

How stupid.

Dick rolled over again, facing the inside of his room. Bile rose inside his throat, making him feel sick. He didn't like being alone. It was terrible. Dick's glance lifted to the white binder that now that had a permanent placing on his desk – the white, sacred gift that he would always be thankful for; the gift of memories, the gift of remembering, the gift of his parents.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Dick sat up, checking the time. It was around lunchtime now. He wasn't hungry, though. But for lack of anything else to do, he stood up and left his bedroom. As he walked down the hallway, he heard some movement in the kitchen. Hope began to rise inside his chest and he hurried his steps down the hallway. Dick hesitantly peeked around the corner.

Wintergreen was sitting at the table, drinking from a mug. The old man looked so tired. In fact, he actually looked filled with grief. It was so overpowering that Dick was unsure if he should disturb him. He had never seen Wintergreen look like this before. It was so odd. What could've happened?

"Afternoon, Will," said Dick carefully. The old man looked up. He smiled wanly at him and then looked back down at his mug. Dick's throat went dry. Something was seriously wrong here.

"Where's Slade?" asked Dick, walking slowly into the room as he were coming upon a skittish animal. Wintergreen looked up again and set his mug aside.

"Slade doesn't wish to be disturbed right now," said Wintergreen. His tone sounded so tired, even older than he ever sounded. He sounded hoarse, his voice raw and deep with emotion.

"What's wrong? Where is he?" asked Dick, feeling unnerved. Something strange was definitely going on. That ominous feeling was just getting worse. He had never seen the old man act this. And Slade; Dick never went a day without seeing him. The man hadn't even surfaced all morning. What the heck was going on around here?

"Slade is currently in the past right now," murmured Wintergreen. "It's in your best interest not to bring him back at this time."

Wintergreen went back to his mug, staring deep into its contents. He seemed to close everything off, almost shutting Dick away. It was a startling feeling from the old man. The old man seemed lost, gone from the present. Dick shivered slightly. The depression in the air was crushing over his heart, bearing a heavy weight on his soul and making his back creak with its terrible burden.

He turned away quickly and quietly began to walk down the hallway.

Dick curled his arms around his chest, holding himself in the effort to offer some needed, yet lost comfort. He wasn't sure what to do now. It seemed as if he wasn't going to be able to interact with either of man. But something definitely didn't settle right in Dick's heart.

No, something was horribly wrong.

Soon, Dick was standing outside Slade's door. He rubbed his arms nervously and hesitated at he stared at the label on the door. Wintergreen had been acting strangely, almost as if he were extremely sad about something. The old man's eyes had been glazed over with a deep depression. It troubled Dick very much. And what had he meant when he said Slade was in the past right now? Surely he hadn't meant literally, had he? Last time Dick checked, Slade didn't have a time machine.

Well, Dick needed some answers. He couldn't bear this anymore. Wintergreen hadn't appeared to be in any condition to offer any answers; so, Dick was going to go to the other source. Nonetheless, he was still very nervous.

With a hesitant, gentle hand, Dick knocked on the door lightly.

"Sir?" called Dick softly. There was no answer. Dick touched the metal handle carefully. Should he enter the man's room without permission? He seriously doubted it'd be open. Would Slade be furious with him enough to punish him for entering?

Dick shivered. Yes, the man had been less violent, but the mere thought of what he chose to do instead always made Dick feel like a little child. He hated it, but at the same time was almost glad for the change. Almost three months now and the man hadn't once resorted to beating him. Slade held back his temper every time. As every day passed by, Dick found himself trusting more and more that Slade would really keep his word.

But a small voice in the back of Dick's mind always seemed to whisper to him that it was temporary.

Dick turned the handle and slowly cracked open the door.

"Slade?" whispered Dick, feeling nervous as he peeked inside the dimly lit room. He opened the door further to see the man lying on the bed with his back propped against the backing. Dick's eyes widened at the sight. Slade was still wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday, his blue collared shirt unbuttoned a few buttons from the top; revealing small tuffs of white chest hair. There was a shadow of white on his face, signifying that he needed a shave. Everything about him said disorder – something that was never a message sent from Slade's general appearance.

The man was swirling a bright golden colored liquid in a small glass. Dick frowned as he caught the smell of alcohol in the room.

Dick couldn't help but raise his eyebrow. In the near four months he had been here, he hadn't once seen either man drink – expect Wintergreen on Christmas Eve. But Slade hadn't touched it. Not once, _ever_. It was extremely strange seeing Slade doing that now. Dick swallowed nervously; unsure how intoxicated the man was. Under the influence was a whole different playing field. The man wouldn't have as much control as he usually did. There was no stopping the man if he got enraged at Dick.

"Um… sir? Slade?" whispered Dick, taking a step closer to the end of the bed. He didn't really get a response out of the man. Slade merely swirled the glass some more, watching the liquid as he did so.

"Um… you know… Drinking isn't really good for you, sir," said Dick, keeping his voice soft and gentle. Somehow, he didn't like seeing Slade like this. He didn't like seeing the man intoxicated. It was strange, but he just didn't like seeing Slade different than he normally appeared to be. It made him feel unsettled and uncomfortable.

Slade let out a few harsh chuckles.

"There are a lot of things in life that aren't good for me," said Slade in a low voice. He didn't sound quite drunk yet, but he definitely didn't sound sober either. It was as if he was teetering in between limbo, neither here nor there. The air within the room was filled with a terrible gloom, almost suffocating Dick in its clutches. The man took another sip from his glass, downing the rest of it.

"What's wrong?" asked Dick, taking a step closer to the bed so that his legs touched the mattress. Slade put a hand to his forehead. Dick got the distinct impression that the man was extremely tired.

"You should leave."

Dick could hear the endless grief within the man's tone. There was a terrible sadness within that grey blue eye. It wavered in its steel strength. Filled within that grey blue was a sea of self hate and despair; sorrow beyond anything Dick had ever seen within that single orb. He remembered seeing a glimpse of it once or twice now with his interactions with the man, but this was at its greatest strength; the purest agony of loss.

Dick was suddenly overwhelmed with understanding. The man had lost someone in his life – who, Dick obviously didn't know. But the fact remained that Slade had lost someone special in his life.

Who could've been so special to him that he would resort to drinking? Was today the anniversary of that someone's death? Dick usually felt the same way about his parents' deaths. Unfortunately, it also fell on the same day as his birthday.

Dick understood the pain. He knew and understood it all too well. It was terribly drowning it its strength, enough to suffocate him in its grip. It was enough to drag him down into the very depths of the darkness. It seemed as if Slade was no different. The man had lost someone special in his life and he deeply mourned their loss. The man was no different than Dick and that was beginning to become clearer and clearer to him every day.

Slade was human.

"I understand… sir," whispered Dick. Slade dropped his hand to look at him; his blood shot, grey blue eye narrowing slightly.

"Understand what?"

Slade's voice was barely above a whisper as well. The air in the room seemed to completely still, the air becoming stifling. Dick ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. His heart quickened lightly. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but the words floated away from him before he could hold them back.

"I understand a death of someone that you love."

Slade watched him pensively for a long moment. Dick's fingers curled at the edges of his t-shirt nervously. He wasn't sure why he said it out loud. He didn't really want to talk about his parents' deaths, but it was obvious that Slade had experienced the same thing and Dick felt a strong need to pull the man out of his stupor; out of his sorrow. For some reason, Dick just did _not_ like to see the man drinking.

Then, Slade's chest rose as his visible eye widened in a fierce rage. Fear quickly slid down Dick's back as he felt the total fury emanate from the man.

"_Get out!_" bellowed Slade. Dick jumped, completely startled by the man's sudden change. He bit his lip, hesitating; but the man screamed at him again.

"_Leave!_"

Dick bolted, tearing out of the room and slamming the door behind him. A moment later, he heard a crash and the shattering of glass. His heart pounded furiously against his chest as he leaned against the door for a moment. He placed a hand on his chest, heaving in deep breaths of fright. Then, he slowly turned and walked to his room. He shut the door softly behind himself.

Dick went to his bed and laid down onto his stomach, curling the pillow beneath his arms.

Dick considered himself a sensitive person. He was easily empathetic to people's feelings. When his friends hurt, he hurt. When they cried, he cried inside. He always wanted to lift others up from their pain. It was one of the reasons why he became Robin so that he could protect others; protect others from the same kind of pain he experienced so early in life.

It was so strange that his heart was crying right now. It was crying over the death of someone he didn't even know; not even that someone's name. It felt torn at the thought that someone important had died. But the reasoning for its tears brought an even more shock to Dick's system.

It was crying because Slade was crying.

Dick wasn't sure when he was beginning to care whether or not Slade was in pain, but it was obvious that he did. When did that happen? How could've that happened? Slade was no one special to Dick, except being his captor, his arch-nemesis. When had Dick's heart softened to the point that he would feel bad for Slade? Feel his heart ache at the man's pain?

When had that happened?

It was dangerous to feel that way… Wasn't it? The man was still unpredictable. How could Dick allow himself to feel closer to the man? Wasn't that a surviving technique with one's kidnapper? After all, wasn't that just what Slade wanted? He wanted Dick to become his apprentice, his partner, his heir. That would mean Dick would stay by his side no matter what. If Dick grew emotionally attached then it would be all that much easier for Slade to win.

Dick closed his eyes and lowered his face into his pillow.

Was there a winner and a loser here?

He didn't want to become Slade's apprentice. He didn't want to work with the man; do what the man did for a living. But somehow, the man wasn't scaring him as much. Slade seemed so normal at times. Dick sort of enjoyed it when the man taught him things – so long as it wasn't guns. Slade was very careful with his teaching and explained things properly when Dick didn't always understand them. The man was a very patient teacher, which surprised him.

Dick couldn't understand it – the feeling rising within him. He had a very strong feeling that he no longer wanted Slade to be Slade the criminal; Slade the villain; Slade the assassin. He really just wanted Slade to be the man who taught him things. Somehow, he was desperately wishing that they weren't _ever_ Robin and Slade, Hero and Villain. But they were Richard and Slade, student and teacher.

Dick was conflicted and thoroughly confused. He had to stop thinking about this or else he'd fall into insanity. He just wasn't sure what to do today. He couldn't bear the thought of being alone now. Honestly, he preferred the routine of study and combat practice. He didn't like the interruption to the schedule. Or at least, one where he wasn't included in it.

Even Wintergreen had looked depressed today, which meant the old man probably knew who died.

Dick buried his face deeper into his pillow, unable to stop the tears from seeping from his eyes and into the fabric. His tears were for those who had passed; his parents and the unknown. His tears were for the bitter loneliness that he felt. Why was life so cruel sometimes? He couldn't help but wonder if he and Slade had met under different circumstances that they just might've gotten along very well.

But the burden of being Slade's captive was still on Dick's shoulders. He still couldn't forget that one simple snag in their tentative relationship. He was still trapped here. While he might be 'getting along' with the man at times, he was still a prisoner. But somehow, he wished he wasn't – but not in the way of escaping. He truly wished he was free to come and go as he pleased.

It was as if he really wanted to get along with Slade as a person. He really wanted to release himself from the burden of being a hero. If he wasn't a hero, then he could just learn from Slade; eat breakfast with him; talk about simple things; get praised by him. Had he grown so used to living with the man that he was beginning to need those little things in his daily life?

It wasn't just that he enjoyed them, Dick felt that he _needed_ certain things from the man. It was the strangest thing. Dick just couldn't understand how he came to feel that way.

He lifted his face and began to wipe his tears away. He was going to ask Slade about the person who died. Maybe it had been a lover. Or maybe it had been someone in his family. Whoever it was, Dick was going to find out. He was going to find the courage and ask Slade straight out.

Hopefully, answers could come.

ooOOOOOoo

**January 6th, 2009. Tuesday, 10:28 pm.**

It took Dick a full week to bring up his courage. Everything went back to normal the very next day. It was like the depression that the household had experienced completely faded away; the oppressive, ominous air lifting. The following day had begun as it always did and Dick couldn't quite bring himself to ask what had been wrong.

Who did Slade lose in his life? Was that the reason he did the things he did? Was it the hardships and the tragedies of life that had torn him down to become a criminal; mercenary; assassin?

Where was Slade's heart? Who was Slade? Four months ago, Dick had been looking in all the wrong areas. The daily interaction was slowly painting the true picture of Slade; the pieces of the puzzle slowly placing themselves to reveal the true man that had lain hidden behind the steel metal mask.

Who had affected Slade's heart so much that he would still mourn them?

Dick was too deep in thought. So, he wasn't exactly paying attention at that very moment. Which probably was unwise, since he was currently sparring with Slade. Thus, he didn't quite see the leg that was aimed for his stomach.

Oh, but he felt it.

The blow blasted him to the side; causing him to roll onto the floor. He bounced once on the ground before smashing into the nearby wall. He groaned; wondering temporarily what had just happened. He felt the presence of Slade next to him a moment later.

"Dick, are you all right?" asked Slade; a hint of concern seeped through his tone. "What happened? You completely zoned out."

Strong hands helped Dick to sit up; one supporting his lower back and the other resting easily on his shoulder. Dick's side was raging in pain from the kick. Usually Slade held back; but when he thought Dick was going to block a blow, he put more power into it. By the intense pain in his side, it was obvious that Slade had expected Dick to block that blow.

"I… got distracted…" said Dick, turning his head away.

"Why?"

Dick bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure how to ask. It could be considered prying into Slade's personal life. But Dick had felt something. He _needed_ to know. He wanted to know why Slade was the way he was. He wanted to understand. For once in his entire life, he wanted to _understand_. He was tired of the line; he was tired of the separation that made Heroes heroes and Villains villains.

He was tired of black and white, light and dark, right and wrong, hero and villain; the dichotomies of life. What happened to just people and their choices?

"You've been out of it for days now," continued Slade, sounding a bit exasperated. "You always seem deep in thought. What's going on with you? Do you have something on your mind?"

Dick merely nodded; meekly sneaking a peek up at Slade to see the man's reaction. Slade raised an eyebrow as if saying, 'And?'

But when Dick couldn't answer the man's raised eyebrow, Slade sighed; shaking his head.

"Come on," said Slade; grabbing Dick by the underarm and carefully pulling him to his feet. Dick winced in pain, his side protesting against the movement. "It's obvious that you need a break."

Dick didn't argue with him as the man led him into the family room. He helped Dick take a seat before eyeing him carefully. The man jerked his head once while pointing to Dick's shirt.

"Lift up your shirt. Let's see the damage," said Slade, kneeling down in front of Dick. He didn't make any movements, only waiting for Dick to obey his command. Dick did so, hissing slightly as he moved his arms to lift his shirt up.

There were already a few light bruises from sparring the other day, but Dick could see the remnant of a large bruise appearing on his left side, his skin yellowing and turning blue from the harsh impact of Slade's leg. A hand slowly moved towards the abused skin and gently pushed a few fingers onto it. Dick hissed as a wave of pain shot through the area.

"Well, I'm not sure if you have any broken ribs," said Slade, removing his hand. "Does it hurt to breathe?"

Dick shook his head as he lowered his shirt back down.

"Do you want the serum?" asked Slade. "I don't really want to give it to you for just pain, but if you can't stand—"

"I'm okay, really. It's not terrible," said Dick quickly, lowering his shirt. The pain wasn't _that_ bad. He had dealt with bruises before. He could handle stuff like this. "I've had worse."

Slade watched him with a heavy grey blue eye. Dick tried very hard not to squirm beneath that gaze. It was like the man was trying to analyze him carefully; strip away the layers of protection that Dick was trying to keep up. The man was beginning to read him better and better with every passing day. Of course, this also was the same for Dick. He was beginning to read the man very well, actually.

Slade took a decided breath and stood up smoothly. Dick watched him walk to the kitchen and begin to rummage through the cabinet for something. Dick turned away after a moment, staring down at his hands. He wasn't sure how to voice his question and he really wasn't sure how Slade would react to it. Would the man be angry for Dick's prying?

Dick could hear Slade working in the kitchen; cabinets being closed, silverware being clinked, sink being used, microwave being run.

All the while, Dick was nervously wringing his hands in his lap. His thoughts were rampaging in his mind; flittering back and forth wildly. Why couldn't he just work up his courage and _ask?_ It wasn't that hard, was it? It was just a _question_ – not that hard. So, why was there this churning inside Dick's stomach over it?

Dick sighed. He knew – he understood. Asking about the man's past would bring up painful wounds, as it had been obvious that his past _was_ painful. Someone had died, there was no doubt about that. Someone that Slade had cared about. Slade was definitely capable of being human; having a lover or someone in his life that had meant everything to him. Wintergreen was proof enough that Slade was capable of such things, being best friends with the old man. Slade was truly capable of caring; perhaps, even loving.

And the softness he sometimes displayed to Dick showed this as well and he was displaying it more and more every day. There was no doubt about it: the man was more than he seemed.

Dick was pulled out of his thoughts as he felt the couch sag next to him. He looked over to see Slade setting two mugs and a bag of marshmallows onto the coffee table. Dick blinked, realizing that the mugs held hot chocolate.

Slade had made hot chocolate for them?

Dick looked at Slade curiously.

"All right, I'll made you a deal," said Slade as a wry smile began to lift his lips. "You talk about what's going on in that head of yours and I'll let you have as many marshmallows as you want."

Dick blinked.

"Huh?"

"Come now, I think I was extremely clear," said Slade with a smirk. "Surely you can understand English?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Dick trailed off and looked at the bag of marshmallows. It had been a long time since he had something like this. He meekly glanced back at Slade. "As many as I want?"

Slade chuckled. "Yes, the whole bag if you wish."

Dick bit his lower lip, feeling a bit timid. "You… You won't get mad at my question?"

"So long as you don't ask for your escape, I think you'll be fine," drawled Slade.

Dick smiled impishly. "Will you let me go?"

"No."

"Well, there ya go, then," smiled Dick. He sobered quickly. "But that wasn't my question."

"I figured as much."

Dick fidgeted slightly, wondering how to voice his question. Slade leaned forward and grabbed one of the mugs of hot chocolate; handing it to Dick. Slade grabbed the other one and then turned slightly on the couch so that he was facing Dick better.

Well, it was now or never.

"Do you remember… what happened last week?" asked Dick in a low murmur; bring the mug to his lips, but not taking a sip quite yet. Slade froze, his face hardening.

"Christmas, you mean?"

"No… a little after that," whispered Dick, completely aware of the stiffened jaw that had come over Slade. There was a long moment before Slade gave out a long sigh.

"Yes, I remember."

Dick's mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but it just wasn't happening. It was getting even harder to use his voice. He could feel it locked inside his throat, steadfastly refusing to voice itself at all. But then, it loosened.

"I just wanted to know… who you lost."

There was a long moment of silence. Dick tried not to close his eyes nervously. Slade had said he wouldn't get angry, so it would be all right. This was deadly personal and it wasn't really any of Dick's business. But there was a section inside his heart which argued that he was now part of whatever the three of them were now. Even if Dick went back to the Teen Titans at that very moment, a part of him would still be drawn back here. Around four months he had been living with the man and Dick felt an emotional connection with him. There was no denying that much; Dick felt something inside his heart.

Of course, he remembered who Slade was and what he did. But that still didn't erase Dick's feelings. He knew he could never fight against Slade in a battle of Heroes and Villains again – not like before. He could never really feel that unbending hatred that he had once felt for this man. No, there would always be a pull on Dick's heart to try to work things out with Slade. He was growing to understand and beginning to trust the man more. But there was now an even deeper feeling inside Dick's heart.

He wanted to help Slade.

"You actually _want_ to know?" asked Slade finally, breaking the long silence.

"Yes," nodded Dick. "I want to know."

There was a low, smooth chuckle as Slade exhaled.

"Is that right?"

"Yes," said Dick with a determined air. "I really want to know."

Slade's grey blue eye flashed with light once as he stared at Dick. Then, the man slid his gaze away as he turned it to the coffee table. A faraway look flittered through his features. He took a deep breath, his large chest swelling deeply before he let it out through his nose. He shot Dick a raised eyebrow.

"No interruptions, then," said Slade, a firm light glittering in his eye.

"Yes, sir," nodded Dick. "I mean—no, sir."

There was another long sigh before Slade set his mug onto the coffee table, turning away slightly to face forward. Slade rested his elbows onto his knees, his fingers intertwined as he rested his chin on them.

"I told you a little bit about my days in the army," said Slade, his voice soft. "I'm sure you remember. I left out the personal segments, though. Before I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, I met… a woman."

Dick's breath caught in his throat. Any movement – even breathing – seemed as if it would break the fragile air.

"Adeline Kane," said Slade in a low undertone; his voice filled with reverence. "She was an instructor in the army – taught me a lot of what I know in armed combat. We were married about a year after I was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. It was near the end of her pregnancy of our first child that I had volunteered for that medical experiment. I woke up from the coma after his birth."

Dick's eyes widened. _Slade had a kid – a son?_ Slade had once been a… father? Dawning realization began to flood over Dick. Was that the reason Slade was so insistent on having an apprentice? Did the man just honestly want a son again?

But what had happened to his family?

Slade leaned his face into his hand, rubbed his one eye with his fingers while he lightly trailed over the black eye patch with his thumb.

"We had decided on the name Grant," whispered Slade. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "About three years later, our second child was born, Joseph. He always went by Joey."

Two sons?

"Then, about four years after Joey's birth, we had our final; Sarah Rose, but we always just called her Rose."

_Slade was a total family man! Three kids? That's nothing to sneeze at, considering the way people sometimes feel about having too many kids._

A few minutes passed in silence. Slade merely sat there with his face in his hand, obviously deep in thought and probably grief over some misfortune. Finally, Dick got up his courage to break the silence.

"Wh–what happened to them?"

There was a bitter, almost harsh, laugh.

"In one week, my family was literally decimated."

Dick felt the blood drain from his face. His breathing stilling, almost suffocating him. Slade's family had been… destroyed?

"_And it was all my fault_."

The voice that whispered that statement sounded drowned in bitter sorrow and self hate. Dick's eyes were wide as he listened carefully.

"Grant…" murmured Slade; there was a small shake of his head during a pause. "I had no idea what he was up to. I had been training him, but I had no idea that he followed in my footsteps behind my back. How he kept it from me… to this day, I'll never know."

The hot mug in Dick's hands was completely forgotten; the marshmallows completely forgotten.

"He took a contract, but somehow my enemies found out that he was the son of Deathstroke the Terminator, which is the mercenary name I go by."

Slade shook his head.

"Stupid boy must've blabbed about it," said Slade in a choking, bitter laugh. "Contract was a setup. Grant was shot and killed. Sent his body to me in a box. It wasn't a pretty sight. He was… your age; fourteen. That was on Friday, December twenty-ninth."

_He… was killed by Slade's enemies? Was that why Slade blamed himself?_

Dick's heart fell inside his chest, thudding heavily. Slade's son had been no older than him. Grant had been just a kid; just a child… Just like what Slade called Dick all the time. Fourteen was really young, if Dick thought about it. The age was too young for death.

_How awful._

"I didn't tell Addie right then," said Slade, his voice turning soft. "She just assumed that he was visiting some friends. I didn't know how to break it to her… the grief—"

Slade's voice cracked slightly. It was a deep, low sound. He reached to the coffee table and took a sip of his hot chocolate before he set it back down. After a moment, he continued.

"But that Tuesday," said Slade, his voice dropping lower. "The day before Rose's eighth birthday, she was at her school having a little new year party with her classmates. Grant must've told them more about my identity than I thought. They planted bombs around the school… She was killed along with fifteen of her classmates."

There was silent intake of breath from Dick.

_He lost two children in just mere days apart from each other? That's so… Not to mention all those other families who lost their kids._

Dick's heart broke right then and there. Two children. Slade had lost two children days apart – a fourteen year old and a seven year old who would forever be stolen one day before her eighth. All because Slade was targeted by his enemies.

Bitterness rose inside Dick's chest. How could people be so cruel? Why was there so much terror and horror in people's hearts? It was so similar to Dick's situation. His parents had been murdered by evil people; Slade's children had been murdered by evil people.

They truly were more alike then Dick had ever imagined.

"It was Wednesday that I got the letter," continued Slade, his chest rising once in his deep breath. "Told me if I wanted to see my last child alive, then I had better come out to meet them. Addie was already in hysterics over Rose's death. When I told her about Grant that nearly set her over the edge. But when I told her about Joey… she completely lost control and it took me over an hour to calm her down."

Slade let out a harsh chuckle.

"When I told her that Joey was kidnapped by _my_ enemies, the very enemies that I had created from the profession I had pursed – one that I had kept secret from her – she nearly killed me right then and there. But since I was needed to save Joey, she didn't."

Slade ran a hand over his face, taking another deep breath.

"Together, we met up with the kidnappers. They wanted some information from me on top of wishing to exact revenge against me. When I refused in my pride, I was too late to stop them from slicing through Joey's throat – disabling him from speaking ever again. He was only eleven years old at the time. We managed to rescue Joey and then I destroyed the kidnappers. That was Thursday."

Slade turned to look over at Dick, who wasn't prepared for the man to suddenly look at him. Dick swallowed, hoping that he didn't look as shocked and sorrowed as he felt. His eyes were burning terribly. Slade pointed to his black eye patch.

"Addie was so furious with me that she shot out my right eye. When I recovered due to my healing abilities, she was even more horrified with me. She took Joey away after he recovered and filed for divorce."

Slade turned his gaze away from Dick and clasped his hands over his mug that was sitting on the coffee table. He leaned back onto the couch about a few inches away from Dick.

"Interestingly enough, my healing abilities don't regrow obliterated body parts," Slade added wryly before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

The sorrow that Slade had expressed was now lifted; the general impassiveness that the man held now erected in its place. But it wasn't for Dick. His heart was twisting, crying in agony for the man's family – the terrible fate that fell all three of them. It was just so terrible; Dick's eyes burned, wishing to mourn their loss.

All within a week.

Slade's family had been completely destroyed – all in that short amount of time.

Dick bit his lips, trying to stop the trembling. Slade's family had been torn apart just like his had been. Did Slade feel lonely for those old times with his family? Were those the nightmares that he awoke to as well – just like Dick did with his parents? How many sleepless nights had there been? How many times did he wish to hold one of his children? How many tears had been shed for the children that had been lost?

How many agonizing moments were endured in their absence?

Dick swallowed back the lump that was building up in his throat. His eyes were overbearing in their burning from his restraint on his tears. He hadn't realized that Slade's past would be so horrific. Losing a child had to be absolutely terrible, but to lose two and then never be able to see the third – that had to be horrible. Not to mention losing his wife, too – someone that had probably been the love of his life.

To be left behind – that was always the worst thing in the world.

"You know," began Slade in a murmur, breaking Dick out of his thoughts. "You look a bit like Grant. He took after his mother – dark brown hair, but he had my eyes. Joey was the opposite – blond hair and her green eyes. Rose completely took after me with the blond hair and blue eyes."

Slade took another sip from his mug.

Something fell inside Dick's chest. It broke him from his sorrowed feelings, something new replacing them.

Somehow, he didn't like being compared to Grant. Was he really just a replacement for Slade's dead son? That thought just didn't settle right inside Dick's heart. For some reason, he didn't want to be just a replacement. Was he getting that attached, perhaps? But that was dangerous. Slade was a criminal who would one day try to force Dick to become one, too.

Wouldn't he?

But before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth in a soft murmur.

"Am I just a replacement for Grant?"

Slade looked startled at this. He looked down at Dick, who didn't look up. There was a long moment before Slade's smooth voice answered.

"No one can replace Grant," said Slade, his voice low and smooth in a soft tone. "Just as no one can replace you, Dick. Even if Grant were still alive, I would've still chosen you to be my apprentice since you have such amazing potential."

Dick couldn't stop the warm glow that filled his heart at that. There was nothing more that could stop it. His emotions overflowed for a moment and a tear slipped down his cheek. Slade raised his eyebrow as he noticed this. But he didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry about your family," murmured Dick after a moment. Another tear slipped down his cheek.

Slade considered Dick with a soft eye for a few moments before reaching over to him. The man's fingers were warm from his mug as they touched the side of Dick's face, making Dick turn his head slightly to look up at Slade. The man's thumb wiped away his stray tear. Dick's eyes widened in surprise from the gentle touch.

"There is no use in wallowing in the past," said Slade softly, reverence filling his tone as he withdrew his hand. Dick could only nod his response, not confident in his voice at that moment. There was another quiet moment as Slade considered him.

"Besides," began Slade in the softest whisper. "I have you now."

Dick's eyes widened even more at this. He couldn't hold back – a soft, shy smile spread through his lips as he flitted his eyes downward towards his mug. It wasn't his usual mischievous, feisty smile. But it was his first real, genuine smile that he had let cross his face ever since Slade had brought him here.

Slade had made him smile with just five simple words.

It scared him, briefly. But at that moment, he didn't quite care. It had been a long time since he felt this happy and he was going to enjoy the sweet moment he felt in his heart.

Maybe… Just maybe… things would turn out a little better.

Dick was at peace for that moment. He knew and understood that he was still a captive. He wasn't free – he was well aware of that. And yet, there was a freeness that flowed through his entire soul at those words. There was no logic to it and yet at that moment, everything was all right. It seemed as if everything would be. His heart just knew it.

It was strange, this feeling of peace.

Was he feeling safe?

Surely not. But that was exactly what he was feeling as he allowed his eyes to droop closed. He was tired, warm, and comfortable; his soul blanketed in peace.

Slipping off to sleep just seemed so easy, so simple, so _safe_.

The boy was quiet after that. Slade was a bit surprised by his reaction. The child had smiled – actually smiled from the bottom of his heart. He looked content, perhaps even peaceful.

How peculiar.

Slade took another sip from his mug, contemplating the event that had just occurred. He was a bit surprised that Dick had the courage – well, mostly – to ask about his past family. He had seemed so sincere in his question. Slade hadn't expected the boy to ever be interested in his enemy's past like that.

Reliving the events of his past was not something Slade had really wanted to do, but since the boy looked so sincere in his request, Slade couldn't deny him. But what was truly amazing was the boy's reaction to it all. He looked so sorrowed, so broken by tale. It was as if he was crying for Slade – which he did, even shedding a few stray tears there.

Just how soft was Dick's heart?

Slade took another sip from his mug again when he felt a weight on his shoulder. With a raised eyebrow, he looked down at the boy that sat next to him.

What he saw shocked him.

Dick had fallen asleep, his head leaning against Slade's arm. He was sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly with his breathing. He still held the mug in his hands, which was slipping dangerously to the side. Slade held back a chuckle as he gently extracted the mug from the loose grip of the boy before it could spill.

What an interesting turn of events.

Dick was becoming comfortable with him. How else could he allow himself to fall asleep in the presence of his 'enemy'? Falling asleep in front of someone showed full and complete comfortableness; even, perhaps, great trust. The boy looked so peaceful and content in his sleep; the gentle, childlike features now fully apparent through his face.

A part of Slade wanted to wake the boy and send him off to bed, but the other part won and he held back. Instead, Slade set the mugs aside onto the coffee table, careful not to jostle the boy. Then, with a gentleness he hadn't shown in years, he slipped his arms beneath Dick's back and knees, lifting him into the air. Dick let out a low mewl in his sleep, but didn't wake up. Slade wondered for a moment just how much Dick's side really was hurting him. Then, the boy's head and curled arms seemed to burrow into Slade's chest.

Slade couldn't hold back the smirk that was bordering on a genuine smile.

Slade quietly left the family room and walked up the stairs to the main floor. He took Dick to his bedroom, softly placing him onto the bed. More murmurs escaped Dick's lips as he moved in his sleep. Slade covered him with the comforter and the murmurs stopped. After a moment of watching the boy, Slade found himself reaching down and brushing a few strands of hair from his sleeping face. Slade was surprised by the soft sigh that came from the sleeping boy as he seemed to lean towards the touch.

After a moment, Slade withdrew his hand; studying the boy for a moment longer. He looked so young, so childlike, so peaceful in his sleep.

Slade once again was coming to the realization that Wintergreen was right – yet again. Dick was an affection starved child. Slade smiled. He had Dick exactly where he needed him. The boy was beginning to really trust him; feel comfortable with him. It was only a matter of time before the boy was completely loyal to him.

And yet, while those words flowed through Slade's conscious, something more was tugging deeper in his soul; pulling at his every section of his heart.

There was something so much more here and what, Slade was unsure.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Two: A Shadow of a Need – Dick finds himself worrying for Slade's safety when the man goes off on a mission by himself.

**Author's Notes:** *lets out a deep sigh of relief* So, on top of my usual editing, I went through this chapter twice with the full purpose of expanding it and making sure everything needed to be said; making sure the emotions were just right. I started off with 6,000 words or so and finished with over 8,000 words.

I can't imagine cutting 2,000 words from this. A little gentle advice to all aspiring writers: always edit with the purpose of making better, adding, correcting, cutting, filling in those spots that seem to be missing something. You just might find something grand if you do.

*is exhausted*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	32. A Shadow of a Need

**Author's Note:** Dear **Lauren**, I have to say that like with most reviews, I reread yours at least 4 times. I am deeply honored by your words. I must say that it brought tears to my eyes. I'm glad so I've been able to invoke strong emotions through my writing. With every review, I am reminded that perhaps I can do this with an original novel. I am heartened by this thought. I am truly glad that I have been able to build a believable growth of these two characters. Thank you so much for reading and for leaving such a touching review.

Once again, I am deeply honored by _all_ of your reviews. Long or short. (the longer the better, actually. I drink those up) I think I'm gonna print them all out, because they are just so inspiring to me. Thanks guys. ^-^ Really and truly; _thank you_.

I find it interesting that I have 'colorful vocabulary'. I must say that I take no credit for it. *is a hobo at thesaurus dot com* Come join me, folks. They've got cookies: aka, biscuit, confection, wafer. XD

Okay, so I need to catch up on a few questions. ^^ First, the only Titans that'll be in this story will be the main four. I'm not going to bring in the other Titans; although, for joking purposes, I've said Kid Flash a few times. Also, this isn't a school training at the H.I.V.E. so no going there for our dear Dickie.

It's true that there is some way that Wintergreen gets the groceries. However, during the first month Dick tried to escape and look for the entrance/exit and never found it. After the meridian, I think that Dick gave up trying to escape. I think we all know that no matter what, Dick could never escape on his own. Slade has the power to drag him back.

I purposely made Grant look more like his mother. I want his appearance to be closer to Dick's appearance. And so that's why I did that. ^^ Also, I don't think I remember writing about a white haired girl with the eye patch. I do remember writing about an albino though…

And as for whether or not Dick will escape and then do something stupid… Yeah, that would be a spoiler if I told you. Sorry friends; you'll just have to wait and see. ^_^

Interesting (or shameless; ah well) self plug here, but if you want to read my take on a Robin/Slade biological father story, I've posted three chapters so far with the fourth on its way. It's called _Warped Identity_. It's story ID number is 9392766. You don't have to worry, though. That story won't interfere with the posting schedule of _Forgotten Bonds_.

Yes, I'm a writing nut. You have _no_ idea.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**A Shadow of a Need**

**January 23rd, 2009. Friday, 8:00 am.**

Breakfast was a little later that morning. Wintergreen insisted that they wait for Slade, so wait they did. Dick didn't think anything of it, but when Slade entered the kitchen, Dick noticed a major difference.

"Where are you going?" asked Dick automatically, staring at the change of clothing. While Slade normally wore every day black slacks and a button up collar shirt – except when sparring – this morning he was wearing his grey, armored Kevlar suit. What was going on?

"Contract," said Slade, sitting down at the table. Wintergreen was already in motion, dishing out scoops of scrambled eggs onto everyone's plates. Dick blinked, a little glimmer of hope entering his chest. Maybe Slade would let him come.

"Ca–can I come?"

"No, you may not," said Slade in an even tone, yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Disappointment now took the place of hope.

"But why not? I won't run away," protested Dick.

Dick was a little surprised by his words, but he found them to be the truth. He wouldn't run away, not anymore. Even if Slade opened the front door, Dick would have a very hard time deciding what to do next. It was shocking and confusing to his system, but at the same time he ignored what his current truth fully meant. Once again, he was overcome with the wish that the two of them were just normal people, instead of that awful black and white line that always seemed to separate them wider than the largest chasm.

Slade gave him a skeptical look.

"If you don't believe me, then just do something so I can't run away," said Dick, hoping to convince the man to let him come along. To leave this place on a mission would be an amazing treat after so many months being cooped up inside.

"I don't need any exterior device to keep you at my side when my own two hands can do that very well, thank you," said Slade with a dry smirk. "But that's not the issue. This contract is above your level right now."

"Oh, come on," protested Dick, feeling annoyed at the sound of that. "I've been training all this time. You always say how much I've improved. Why can't I come? I haven't been outside in months."

Slade's grey blue eye turned dark.

"A mafia boss is threatening a CEO's family, numerous families in fact. Thus, the client has requested that I take care of his pest problem. In layman's terms: I am going to take a gun and shoot him."

Dick's mouth went dry. He managed to swallow finally.

"This job requires two things; two things you haven't overcome," said Slade, that grey blue glinting with darkness. "Guns and killing."

Dick's mouth couldn't go drier at that moment. He couldn't even swallow now; thoroughly and completely disconcerted. He didn't like the thought of Slade killing anyone. What was even stranger was that it wasn't just the fact that he didn't like anyone killing someone else, it was that he didn't like _Slade_ killing anyone. Why couldn't the man choose a different line of work? And why'd he have to go up against a mafia boss of all people? Even Batman knew to be careful around such treacherous people. Somehow the worry rose up through Dick's throat like bile.

Dick dropped his head, looking down at his plate.

"Is it… dangerous?" asked Dick in a whisper. Slade stopped with his breakfast and blinked once. He looked at Dick with a perplexed expression.

"What kind of question is that?" asked Slade with a raised eyebrow.

"Just that," insisted Dick in another whisper. "Is it dangerous?"

Slade considered him for a few moments before he shrugged lightly.

"For you, yes. For me, not at all."

Dick bit his lower lip, tucking it into his mouth somewhat. His mouth began to salivate once again. His leg bounced nervously. He just couldn't explain it; there was this rising fear in his chest. It was a similar feeling that he had sometimes felt when he'd watch Batman leave for a very dangerous criminal.

Dick knew the fear was unfounded, but there was always this deep settled fear that he'd be left behind; that someone else would die on him. He was always afraid of losing someone else.

But since when was he worried about Slade?

"But… But what if something goes wrong?" asked Dick, before he could stop himself. "I mean, what if someone finds out that you picked off their boss. They'll come after you."

"Probably," said Slade with an offhanded air.

"But that's dangerous."

"Extremely so."

"Slade, I'm serious," said Dick, unable to hold back the uneasiness out of his tone. "They could come after you."

"Oh, honestly," said Slade; shaking his head, and sounding slightly amused and exasperated. "I am _far_ from concerned that a bunch of two bit mafia chumps will prove any challenge to me. They can't even touch me. They'll drop before me like flies."

Dick had a sudden vision of bulky mafia guys with giant fly wings on their backs, dropping off dead as Slade tore through them. But then the vision changed and Slade was the one that fell in the midst of them from a bullet wound. Dick tried to clear his mind of the crimson color that splattered through his conscious, but he couldn't. It wasn't a delightful thought, to say the least. In fact, he couldn't help but shudder.

"I should still come with you," said Dick, blinking rapidly to escape the vivid image in his mind. "I could help you."

It was there again; that nagging worry. He couldn't help the worry, the fear, the helpless feeling from eating at his insides. His stomach twisted and turned.

Why was he so worried? Slade could take care of himself. No matter how much Dick didn't want to admit it, Slade could completely dominate Batman in all realms of prowess. Dick had always thought that Batman was the best of the best, but after watching Slade he knew that was far from the truth. Batman was skilled, no doubt; but Slade could dominate any creature on earth – one on one, no doubt.

So, why was Dick's stomach churning in a nervous, apprehensive concern for the man? Why did Dick feel the need to worry about the man? He was a criminal, his _captor_, after all. Who cared if the man got killed on a contract? Then, Dick would be free, right?

_Right?_

"Dick, you still haven't completely overcome your phobia yet," said Slade, his tone firm, yet there was still a gentleness to it when mentioning the phobia.

Dick glanced up to look into the grey blue eye. The words he wanted to say wouldn't part his lips. His fears, his worries, his needs – no matter how much he wanted to tell the man that he was scared, he couldn't. It was stupid, foolish, inconceivable; there was no doubt about that. There was no way Dick should've been feeling this way.

But he was.

Was it because Slade had given him such a precious and rich gift at Christmas, one he'd probably treasure for the rest of his life? Was it because he had learned of the man's past and felt bad for him? No, no; it was more than that. Was it the culmination of a number of things? Was Dick so desperate that his heart would sway so easily towards a little kindness from another person, no matter who they were or what they did?

Perhaps… But Slade had proven himself so far.

Was Dick getting that attached to this man? Was he really getting attached to the very man that held him captive? How stupid could that be? Batman would berate Dick for thinking such a thing – fraternizing with the enemy. Batman would be appalled that Dick could've been swayed by the man's past. He'd probably say that Slade had made it up. Slade was a master in manipulation. He knew full well how to sway Dick's feelings. And Dick knew all the terms for such things; Stockholm Syndrome. He wasn't stupid; he knew and understood the situation; how Slade was, in no doubt, probably manipulating his feelings.

Still, Stockholm Syndrome was something that often occurred between someone who abused someone else – there was always a victim in such cases.

While, yes, Dick couldn't leave, he didn't feel like a victim anymore. He did at first and there was no way he would've ever gotten attached to the man during those circumstances. No, he had actually hated the man with every fiber of his being.

But once Slade changed his tactic with him, once the man became softer, even kinder, and actually acted normal, the man no longer felt like his abusive captor. What he did feel like, Dick wasn't so sure what to call it. Life seemed almost normal – almost like during the time he'd been with Bruce and Alfred; although, during that time he had been allowed out the front door, at least.

But it seemed even more than that. Dick couldn't help but feel that there was something more to Slade. When there was that moment where everything seemed normal, when Dick forgot for just a moment what exactly the situation was, there was a similar yet different feeling to Bruce and Alfred.

There was something more, perhaps – dare Dick say it – special between the three of them here. It was such a subtle feeling that Dick wasn't sure how to pinpoint it.

Was it because Dick learned something about Slade he hadn't imagined possible?

The man was just that; a man – human.

He got hungry, he ate; he smiled, he laughed; he was mischievous, he teased; he got irritated, he got angry; he got saddened, he tried to hide it – so many normal emotions flowed over Slade's face and through his single visible eye. Dick noticed at times there was a deep pain inside the man. He hadn't known it at first, but now he knew. Now he understood why Slade was who he was.

What had made Slade the man he was now? Why did he choose to become a mercenary, an assassin? Why did the man choose to do something like that for a living? Was it his own way to be like he'd been in his army days?

What changed his heart?

Some of those questions had been answered; a glimmer of who Slade was falling into place in Dick's subconscious, creating a picture like no other. Dick didn't think Slade made up that story of his past. Somehow, Dick knew it was the truth. While Slade was many things, Dick highly doubted that the man could express such emotion during a lie.

No, the man truly once had a family and that family had been destroyed by his choices. No wonder Slade was who he was. There was no second chance for him to change; there was no way he could fix the past, because those who died couldn't be brought back to life no matter how deep the heartache was or how deep the apology.

There was no redemption for the man.

"Well, have you?"

Dick blinked; his thoughts getting broken from Slade's smooth voice. For a moment, he looked at Slade, unsure what to say. Then, he remembered what they'd been talking about – his phobia.

"No, sir," whispered Dick.

"You are doing better, I'll admit that," said Slade. "But I think it wouldn't be good for you to come on this mission. I'm sorry, Dick; but you aren't coming this time."

Dick swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, sir," said Dick, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his increasing fears. Slade stood up from the table, his breakfast half finished. The man walked past to stop behind him before Dick felt a hand on his shoulder. His breathing quickened slightly as the worry flooded into his chest; yet a contrasting peace flowed over him from the warmth that the hand offered.

"I should be back early tomorrow morning," said Slade from behind him. "You may have the day off, but behave yourself with Will because if you don't, I'll know."

"Yes, sir," whispered Dick as he submissively nodded once. The warmth disappeared and Dick found himself turning to watch the man leave the kitchen. The door closed behind him. Dick's heart palpitated once, falling in his chest before it regulated.

_It's not a big deal. Get a hold of yourself. Why do you even care, anyways? This is Slade for crying out loud. Who cares about his past; that doesn't justify his actions now. What's wrong with you?_

The voice inside his head began to ruthlessly tear away at his defenses; callously clawing at his protective walls. At moments, it sounded so much like something Robin would say; but then, somehow it blended with Batman's low, stern voice.

_Why should you care about him? Wasn't he the one that tore you away from your life so he could force you to do things that aren't right, things you don't want to do, things your _mother_ would be revolted by._

_He's your captor._

_Are you going to let him teach you how to steal, to kill? Will you lose your humanity? Will you throw away everything that makes you who you are?_

_Stop getting attached to him; stop caring about him._

_After all, isn't he your enemy? You're supposed to take him down._

_Black and white; light and dark; there is no grey area. You're the Hero. He's the Villain. It's as simple as that._

_Stop falling into the obvious trap that's laid before you._

Dick's heart began to palpitate in his chest. He closed his eyes, swallowing once as the worry rose even more – but this time over himself. Of course he cared. He would always care if anyone got hurt or died. There wasn't anything anyone could say to tell him to stop caring.

But the voice inside his head was making him feel guilty just for caring about this man. Was it really all that wrong? Was caring for this man truly a trap? Was he suddenly bad, evil for caring about Slade's safety?

What if that was true?

Dick's closed eyes began to burn at that thought. Was that true; that he was bad for caring? Was he now a villain for fraternizing with his enemy? Had his heart turned black for caring about a villain? Was there no hope for him now?

His heart pumped rapidly against his chest; constricting and clenching terribly.

That, he couldn't bear.

But in the moment where he was almost lost, he felt something flutter through his mind; a memory of old flashed in his mind – a memory of his mother.

ooOOOOOoo

"_Mama! Can you believe this?" protested Dick in a fierce little tone as he held up the large family Bible to show his mother. The book was extremely heavy and it was noticeable that he was having trouble just holding it up; his little body tipping to the side at times before he tried to his best to straighten under the weight. Mary looked down at her son with a bright smile._

"_If it's in there, then I most certainly can," said Mary with a mischievous smile; knowing full well that would only make her son get more excitable._

_And she was right._

"_No! Mama, listen to me," said Dick; hopping up and down a few times, with slight difficulty. "There's something in here that's definitely stupid!"_

"_Did you mention that to God?" asked Mary in a playful, thoughtful tone. "I'm sure He could use some advice from a six year old."_

"_Mama!" cried Dick, sounding thoroughly exasperated. Mary giggled lightly, swooping her son up into her arms, Bible and all. She plopped onto the couch with a sparkle of giggles. She sent a hand to card through his raven black hair._

"_All right, my little robin," said Mary in a soft, gentle voice; trilling her r's as she spoke. "Tell me, what is unbelievable?"_

"_This," said Dick with a determined nod. He quickly opened the Bible to the book of Matthew and pointed to a passage with an indignant air._

"_There," said Dick at the offending words. He folded his arms and looked at Mary with an incensed frown on his face. Mary leaned down to look at the passage._

"_What's wrong with it, Dick?"_

"_What's wrong with it?" repeated Dick, thoroughly incredulous. "Why's God saying we gotta love our enemies? He's joking right? God's got a funny sense of humor, doesn't He?"_

_Mary's voice trilled as she laughed and giggled at her young son. This, however, only made Dick more indignant._

"_What's so funny?" demanded Dick._

"_You, my little robin," said Mary finally. "You are precious."_

"_Mama!"_

"_All right, I'll tell you something special. How about that?"_

_At the serious change in Mary's tone, Dick straightened in her lap; wide, bright blue eyes looking expectantly at her. Soft arms tightened around his waist as he was pulled closer to Mary._

"_Did you know there's another scripture?"_

"_There's an entire book with other scriptures, Mama," deadpanned Dick. "Pick one."_

_He received more giggles and a tightened hug._

"_Exactly so, little robin," said Mary through her giggles. "But I meant there's another scripture that I believe goes with this one very well. Do you know what it is?"_

"_No, but you're gonna tell me."_

_Mary smiled softly. "Actually, there are multiple times that something like this is said, but the scripture says to love one another. Does that not include everyone?"_

_Dick frowned and folded his arms grumpily. He gazed up at his mother with a questioning eye._

"_Does that really include our enemies? Do I really gotta love even bad people?"_

"_Of course, my little robin. Everyone means everyone. Not one is to be left out."_

_Mary leaned closer to Dick, nuzzling her nose against his._

"_Share your special love with everyone, little robin. You never know what your love can do, for love is the most powerful gift and power that God can grant anyone. It is most certainly a power in its own right and you can move even the darkest of hearts with it."_

ooOOOOOoo

**January 23rd, 2009. Friday, 8:23 am.**

The fluttering sensation left him as a small peace washed over Dick; remembering the soft, yet powerful words of his mother. It was all right to care. The worry of being bad slipped away; his heart calming in that. He took a deep breath, thankful for her memories. Even though he wished with all his heart that he could have more of her, he was thankful for the ones he did have.

Well, there was no doubt now. Dick was feeling especially nervous; the doubt was cleared – he was worried for Slade's wellbeing; which, obviously, was a completely unfounded fear. Yet his heart still worried because that was just what Dick's heart would do for someone – especially someone he was beginning to care about.

Slade was Slade – the man was enhanced; there was no way anyone could stand against him. And, after all, Slade was a man of his word.

He'd be back, just like he said he'd be.

But there wasn't anything Dick could do at that moment except let his emotions eat away at his stomach. It was as if there was a little worm burrowing through his insides. His breakfast was half finished, just like Slade's, but he didn't want to leave the table. However, there was no stopping his fidgeting. He glanced at the door to the main room multiple times.

Gosh, why couldn't he calm down? You'd think he was waiting for the medical report on a dying friend. What the heck was wrong with him?

Ten minutes of fidgeting did little to ease his feelings.

Finally, obviously thoroughly exasperated by this point, Wintergreen spoke up.

"Child, would you hold still already? Finish your breakfast. Good grief, do you have ants in your pants or something?"

Dick flushed and shook his head, ducking it low as well.

"No, sir," whispered Dick, but the fidgeting didn't stop. Wintergreen sighed; standing up from the table and coming to stand next to Dick. He placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment.

"Come with me, Richard," said Wintergreen in a soft voice. Unable to deny the old man, especially after hearing the old man call him by his name, Dick followed Wintergreen down the hallway. The old man turned down the hallway towards his bedroom, but he didn't stop there; instead he continued down the hallway to the locked door at the end. Wintergreen gave him a small smile over his shoulder.

"I think it's about time to let you have access to this," said Wintergreen with a twinkle in his aged hazel eye. "I know Slade hasn't thought about it, because he's been too busy with your education. But I think you'll enjoy this."

Wintergreen tapped the door above the handle and a keypad slid open. In a moment, Wintergreen keyed in the password and unlocked the door. Dick followed the old man inside the room and was surprised at what he saw.

Inside the room were a numerous bookcases, each filled with hundreds of books. It was like a library; books upon books of all sizes. Dick was amazed by the sheer volume. He took a step forward and placed a hand on the edge of a bookcase, running a hand against the wood.

Dick noticed that there was couch and a few single sofa chairs.

"Well, this is just a small part of Slade's collection, but it should last you for quite awhile," said Wintergreen.

Dick shot the old man a shocked look. There was _more?_ Geez, where did Slade keep all his secret stuff? This was a stunning collection of books. Who knew Slade was such an avid reader?

"You may read whatever you like for as long as you like; at least until bedtime," said Wintergreen.

Dick bit his lower lip. He glanced at Wintergreen. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight. But he seriously didn't want to lie in bed all night and worry himself to death. He accepted the fact that he was worrying about Slade. The thought of being alone to his thoughts for hours at time was more than he could bear.

"Can't I wait up for Slade?" asked Dick in a low whisper. Wintergreen looked startled by the request. He stared at Dick as if studying and observing him.

"No, Richard. I think it's best that you go to bed. You'll see him tomorrow," said Wintergreen, his voice verging on a reassuring tone.

"Please?" asked Dick. "Please, can't I, just this once?"

"No, child. You need your sleep."

"I won't be able to get any tonight," insisted Dick in a soft voice. Wintergreen considered him for a moment. Then, a wry smile lifted his aged face as he raised an eyebrow.

"Now, now; you need your sleep. You're a growing boy."

"Please? Can't I stay up?"

There was a long moment, before Wintergreen gave him a hard look.

"Are you truly willing to risk punishment by defying me? You know what Slade said."

Dick's lips trembled. He seriously wasn't trying to defy the old man. But he much rather stay up and know that Slade hadn't died or gotten hurt than lie in bed brooding on the whole thing. That would be more than he could bear. But he really didn't want to get trouble.

Instead, Dick set pleading eyes on Wintergreen; truly hoping that the old man would be able to understand his feelings. Of course, that was a pretty silly hope, but hope Dick did.

Wintergreen sighed.

"All right; all right, child," said Wintergreen, throwing his hands in the air. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Don't blame me if Slade doesn't like this."

Dick smiled.

"Thank you, Will."

Wintergreen gave him a smile of his own and patted him on the shoulder. Then, he left the library; leaving the door open as he left.

It took a moment for Dick to tear his gaze away from the open door to the plethora of books available. He slowly walked through each of the isles of bookcases. He smiled at the different kinds of books. He recognized many of the old classics and wondered if Slade had read them or had merely gotten them for Wintergreen. Dick just couldn't imagine the man taking a breather to sit and read. It just didn't seem like something that Slade would do.

But then again, Dick hadn't ever imagined the man eating – which, of course, he did like any other person.

There were also a number of self help books – which surprised and amused Dick to no end. There were a lot of instructional, college level books on multiple subjects; from math, to literature, to psychology, to engineering, to computers, to art, to music, to far more. He also saw many recent authors.

It took him a few minutes before he settled on one. He took the book and sat down in one of the single arm chairs; draping his legs over the edge while he rested his back on the other side. He curled up and began to read; hoping to ignore the worry that was still twisted inside his stomach.

ooOOOOOoo

**January 24th, 2009. Saturday, 4:21 am.**

"Ah, welcome back, Slade," said Wintergreen, looking up from his book as Slade entered into the kitchen. Slade pulled off his mask and gave the old man a tired smile.

"What are you doing up?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Wintergreen, standing up right away to go to the stovetop. He poured a hot cup of coffee into a mug and handed it to Slade.

"Oh, Will," said Slade, shaking his head as he sat down in a chair. He sighed deeply, feeling tired. "You shouldn't have waited up."

"But then, who'd be able to hand you your first cup of coffee for the day?" asked Wintergreen, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. Slade let out a low chuckle and brought the mug to his lips.

"Thank you," murmured Slade, sipping slightly and breathing deeply. A feeling of thankfulness to his old friend swept over him as he slowly drank. Wintergreen sat down at the table and observed him for a moment. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"Something happen while I was gone?"

"No, not really," said Wintergreen. "Just a little something unusual, perhaps."

"Like what?"

"Richard wanted to wait up for you."

Slade blinked. "He what?"

"I told him no at first, but he insisted even when I told him you might be displeased with him," continued Wintergreen. "He's waiting for you now in the library. But I have a feeling he fell asleep by now. He was awake around two, but he was struggling at it."

"The minute I'm gone he's disobedient," said Slade; clicking his tongue once as he felt the displeasure and disappointment rise inside his chest. "I had thought we'd gotten past that."

Wintergreen's mouth lifted in a knowing smile.

"I think I'll let you figure it out," said Wintergreen, his hazel eyes twinkling lightly. "You should know that he wasn't belligerent at all. And you know _very well_ I can handle that fourteen year old child if he caused any _real_ trouble. Why don't you check in on him and send him to bed. He'll probably have to sleep in tomorrow."

With that, Wintergreen stood from the table and walked past Slade. The old man gave Slade a light squeeze on the shoulder before leaving.

"Good night."

"You, too," replied Slade. He waited a few moments before he set his empty mug onto the table.

Wintergreen hadn't seemed to be put off by the boy's defiance; however, Slade didn't like the fact that Dick had been anything but on his best behavior while he was away. Granted, this wasn't a big offense. At any rate, Slade wanted perfect obedience from the boy. Anything less and it made it that much harder for Slade to bring the boy on a mission. Dick was overdue for one. He'd definitely proven that he was more than capable and Slade wasn't too worried that the boy would try to escape right away; not to mention Slade could procure ways of keeping tabs on him – if not Slade's mere presence was enough.

In some ways, though, Slade didn't want to bring Dick on a mission with him.

But the boy certainly wasn't ready for a mission by himself; _Slade_ wasn't ready to let him go off on his own. For multiple reasons Slade didn't want the boy to go on a mission on his own. Was he feeling overprotective? Probably, but it'd wear off after a little while longer. Slade always felt these feelings after the anniversary of Grant and Rose's deaths. He didn't want a replay of that with Dick. Plus, the boy wasn't loyal to him. There was no reason to stick around; the minute Dick could get the chance to escape, there was no doubt in Slade's mind that he'd take it.

Slade stood up from the table and began to walk down the hallway; once in front of Dick's bedroom door, he turned to the right and walked to the open door of the library.

He wasn't sure if he should punish Dick for defying Wintergreen. He wasn't sure what to make of it. What he couldn't understand was why Wintergreen wasn't concerned with this behavior. The boy shouldn't be allowed to get away with such things. He should know better by now.

Slade stepped into the room. His eye caught sight of Dick, who was deeply asleep in an armchair. Slade chuckled softly at the way the boy was draped over the arms. Couldn't sit in the chair normally, could he? Slade quietly stepped to him. He noticed that there was a book on his stomach, halfway through. Slade's eye flickered to the floor and he saw three other books. It seemed that the boy was a pretty fast reader as well. Slade reached down and slipped the book out of Dick's grasp; letting the book's natural bookmark ribbon mark his place before he set the book on top of the pile on the floor.

Slade let a smile cross his face as he looked down at the sleeping boy. He looked so peaceful, so innocent. It'd be a shame to wake him. Well, four in the morning wasn't exactly the time to deal with the boy's conduct. Might as well deal with it tomorrow. Thus, Slade decided not to disturb Dick's sleep, slipping an arm beneath the boy's knees and behind his back; lifting him up into his arms. Dick stirred and he woke slightly.

"Slade?" murmured Dick, his drooping eyes struggling to open. He moved slightly in his arms, but Slade tightened his hold on the boy.

"Yes, it's me," replied Slade in a soft whisper. "Go back to sleep."

Dick relaxed in his arms, settling his head against his chest. He took a deep breath and let out slowly. Slade raised his eyebrow by the sudden change in the boy's body; it was as if he felt secure in Slade's arms.

"You're home safe… _Thank goodness_…" whispered Dick, his blue eyes disappearing beneath his eyelids. Dick slipped off to sleep almost instantly; leaving Slade in a state of shock. He stared down at the sleeping child, thinking heavily on what those words meant.

Was that it? The boy had been worried about him? Was that the reason he risked getting into trouble by defying Wintergreen? Was that what Wintergreen had been going on about? Had Wintergreen figured that out and decided to humor the boy? Why would Dick be worried about Slade?

Slade swallowed once; watching the boy breathe slowly in his arms.

Dick truly was beginning to form a bond with Slade. The boy had been worried about Slade's safety, despite who he was and what he did – even when the boy knew full well of Slade's power. It was illogical to worry; and yet, he had worried, like a child would with someone they cared about. At that thought, Slade nearly barked out a surprised laugh; but he held back, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy.

What a foolish thought. Dick worried about Slade; _caring_ about Slade? That had to be laughable.

Slade slowly walked out of the library and to the boy's room. He carefully opened the door without disturbing Dick too much in his arms. He walked to the boy's bed and gently deposited him on top. Dick stirred slightly in his sleep and Slade quickly, but carefully, pulled out the covers from beneath him. Once the boy was beneath the warmth of his comforter, he stilled slightly; his breathing deepening.

Slade took a hand and brushed through the boy's bangs.

Knowing Dick, though, it wasn't a foolish thought. Before Slade had gotten to know Dick, he'd never assume that Robin would ever care about his enemies. He'd been trained by Batman, after all. The Dark Knight of Gotham had a hard heart against his enemies – everyone knew that, especially his enemies. But Slade had learned extremely quickly that Dick had a soft heart, a kind one – one that offered love to anyone. Yes, he took down his enemies with swiftness and with power, but there was still this soft nature in his heart. Slade wasn't sure where he learned that. Had he truly just been born with such a heart?

There was such a tenderness to the boy, even more than what Joey had possessed, actually. And yet, there was this contrasting, powerful strength that Joey hadn't had. Where had Dick gained such a soft, forgiving heart? How had it survived through five years under the tutelage of Batman? How had it survived through four months under Slade's tutelage?

Dick was far stronger than Slade could've imagined.

And that strong heart was starting to bond, starting to care, starting to worry – and all over Slade. However, no matter the bond, Dick still had his morals ingrained inside of his heart. There would always be conflict between them over such things. It wouldn't matter how much Dick cared, how much he bonded with Slade, they'd always come to a conflict. Loyal or not, those morals still existed inside the child and they were extremely strong. Could Slade break them without breaking the boy?

Was it worth it if it did?

ooOOOOOoo

**January 25th, 2009. Sunday, 3:17 am.**

A choking scream burst from Dick's lips as he bolted up in bed. Every muscle in his body was trembling, shivering, shaking in absolute fright. A sheen of sweat rose from his skin all over his entire body. Dick clasped a hand over his pounding heart; checking for the wound that wasn't there. His hand frantically slid over his arm and shoulder; rechecking to see if the bullet holes would be there.

They weren't.

He had dreamt about that terrible moment – that moment when the Joker had shot him. The nightmare had begun with the usual one of his parents' awful fall to their deaths, but it hadn't ended there as it normally did. After that, he was in that street alley; getting shot by the Joker and enduring the endless agony of the pain.

Dick was standing suddenly. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was at his door and wrenching it open. A few quick steps and he was standing outside Slade's bedroom door; shivering and shaking in his tremors.

But he stopped suddenly; realizing what he was doing. It was in the middle of the night – what was he trying to do, wake up Slade? Besides, what the _heck_ was he doing? Was he really seeking _comfort_ from Slade, of all people? That seriously wasn't what he was trying to do.

But there he was, standing outside the man's bedroom door; almost ready to knock and wake him up. Slade probably wouldn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. But he _had_ said that if Dick ever needed him, that he was available.

Since when did Dick _need_ Slade?

The door opened suddenly and Slade stopped abruptly at the sight of Dick. His visible eye widened when he saw him. The man was still dressed in his day clothing of black slacks and a white button down shirt.

"Dick, are you all right? I heard you scream," said Slade in a whisper, a hint of concern in his voice.

"I–I'm fine," said Dick shakily. He wasn't sure what he was doing. What the heck was he doing? Why was he here? Why?

"Did you have another nightmare?" asked Slade.

"I–I'm sorry. I–I didn't mean to wake you," babbled Dick nervously. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm sorry. I—I'll go back now."

Dick continued to babble quickly; not really noticing the pair of strong hands that were placed on his shoulders. They were calmly leading him inside the man's room. Dick continued to spew out apologies for waking the man until he felt himself being pushed onto the edge of the bed. He blinked and looked up at Slade, who had a slight wry smirk on his face with a lifted eyebrow.

"You can calm down now," said Slade, sounding greatly amused.

"But—"

"I was working late – you didn't wake me," said Slade, overriding Dick's protests.

"Oh…"

The hands withdrew and Slade took a seat next to Dick on the bed; the mattress sagging as he did so. There was silence for a few moments. Dick wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was a little surprised. It seemed as if Slade had been coming to see if he was all right.

Just like last time.

"It was another nightmare, correct?" asked Slade. Dick breathed in deeply, trying to stop his trembling.

Yeah, it had been another nightmare. He wished they would just stop already. But somehow the memories always came back to haunt him, taunt him, make fun of him – squeeze and choke the very life out of his chest. Luckily, the nightmares didn't happen every night – merely every few weeks to months. But when they did occur, they were overpowering.

Dick nodded to Slade's question.

"Do you want to talk about it? It might help," said Slade. Dick let out a low, injured chuckle.

"Talking about it won't change the memories."

"Ah. So, your nightmares are past memories?"

A splash of morbid wit came over Dick as he gave Slade a tired smirk. "Not all my nightmares can include you."

That got him a few chuckles.

But then, Dick sobered as he dropped his hands into his lap and stared at them. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Slade anything. He was still the man's captive – yes, things had changed some between them, but Dick still didn't fully trust Slade; even though the trust level had greatly grown. On many levels, Dick's brain was completely swamped by the fact that this was his life now and to make the best of it.

While the stronger, brighter side of his mind was screaming at him: Slade was a criminal; Slade was a bad person; Slade did bad things to people; Slade was an assassin; Slade was a mercenary.

But that part of Dick's mind was slowly growing dimmer and dimmer.

It wasn't as if Dick had completely forgotten those things. He was just seeing a new side to everything and they were beginning to put Slade in a whole new light. Yes, the man was a mercenary, but Dick was finding that he wasn't exactly a bad person, per se. He just made poor choices in life – he was human, after all. Dick was also finding that Slade didn't actually do bad things to people; only when contracted, and even then, he was generally contracted to take out evil mobsters or protect a high profile family.

And sure, the man lost his bad temper sometimes, but Dick had to admit to himself that he was just the same. He was probably more hot headed than Slade was – although when Slade lost his temper it was probably the _most_ frightening thing on the planet. But the man had not once, since promising that he wouldn't, beaten Dick or struck him out of anger.

But there was always this little nagging voice in the back of Dick's mind telling him that Slade could go back to his older ways of dealing with him at any time. There was nothing really stopping him. Overall, there had been a few times when Dick thought the man was going to revert back, but Slade had managed to reel it back in – only to punish Dick in his usual, yet embarrassing way: a very hard clout against the backside.

He really didn't like it, but there was a part of him that accepted it. Slade dealt with him in a very controlled way, much different than he had during the first month. While Dick did hate feeling like a little child, the man's actions also brought a sense of normalcy, consistency, and security – perhaps even feeling as if the man were a constant adult figure in his life.

A hand rested on the mid-lower section of Dick's back. In a soothing rhythm, it gently rubbed in a small area back and forth. Occasionally, it would lightly pat his back a few times before returning to its rhythm. Slade didn't speak or force Dick to reply, merely using his hand in that soothing touch.

Somehow, Dick felt calmed. The terrible trembling that he had been experiencing was beginning to lessen. Slowly, his breathing and heart began to return to their normal rate. He still shivered slightly, due to the slight sweat that his nightmare had produced. But everything seemed a little better; just a little better.

All because of one hand resting on his back.

Dick sat there, extremely still for awhile; soaking in the touch. He almost didn't want it to end – it was too comforting. It seemed to say, "There, there; everything will get better." And yet, that just wasn't what Slade would say. _Ever_. But he hadn't needed to – his hand did the trick perfectly.

Who could've thought that something like this was all he needed to calm his heart down? He never really needed much from others. The occasional touch like this was more than enough; although, Dick was fully ready to admit he craved more. And at any rate, there hadn't ever really been anyone to offer such softness – not since his parents had died.

What was so special about a casual, soft touch from someone anyways? Especially when that someone was Slade? He appreciated it when Wintergreen offered such things, but for some reason when Slade was the one who offered the touch it always seemed so much more; so much more comforting.

The tiredness and exhaustion from his nightmare began to slip over him. He felt peace wash over in a soft, tender wave. He felt his eyes begin to droop and he yawned once before he could stop himself.

But he found himself not wanting to move.

"Why don't you lie down for a few minutes," suggested Slade in a soft undertone. Dick shook his head quickly, seriously not wanting to move. But his eyes were having great difficulty staying open. So, Dick just closed them. If he pretended he was still awake, then maybe that hand might stay there longer. However, the hand withdrew. A whimper rose in Dick's throat, but never escaped his lips.

But then, the hand rested on his shoulder, along with a second hand on his other shoulder. Dick found himself being forced to lie down onto his side.

"Go on, Dick. Just lie down," said Slade in that same soft, even coaxing undertone. "I'm still working. You can stay here for now."

There was no fighting it. Dick laid down without anymore protests. The covers were pulled out from beneath him and soon afterward warmth blanketed over him. He breathed in deeply; smelling the musky, rustic scent of the man's cologne throughout the bedding. Somehow, it made him feel even more sleepy.

He felt a hand lace through his bangs for a moment.

"Go to sleep, Dick," whispered the owner of the hand. Dick nodded lightly, snuggling more beneath the covers so that they came past his ears. The pillow was perfectly soft and with that masculine, soothing fragrance completely surrounding him, Dick was finding it hard to disobey that request. But as the hand lifted away from his bangs, he felt the need to speak.

"It was the Joker," whispered Dick beneath the comforter. "First, I dreamt about my parents, but then the dream changed to him."

There was a long moment of silence. Dick was nodding off before he vaguely heard Slade's quiet, yet strong reply.

"The Joker won't ever hurt you again – since I won't allow it. I will protect you."

Somehow, in Dick's light sleep, there was a contented lift of his lips at the sound of that.

ooOOOOOoo

**January 25th, 2009. Sunday, 7:24 am.**

Batman stood inside the main room of the Gotham City morgue. He stood motionless, taking deep breaths. Commissioner Gordon had told that he had something important that might interest him.

Something on Deathstroke.

Batman had told the older man that if anything came up on the mercenary to tell him immediately. He hadn't given the man too much of a reason why at first, but the older man wormed the fact out of him that a boy had been kidnapped by the assassin and Batman was trying to save him. The thought that after so many months there might be a lead, something small to push Batman in the right direction to uncovering this kidnapper, was more than enough to make Batman go crazy with anticipation.

Yet, he stood rigid as a post, waiting for the commissioner.

Commissioner Gordon opened one of the frozen chambers, pulling out the body of an adult male. Batman immediately recognized the man to be one of the more infamous mafia bosses. He was hit with two surprises; one, the fact that this man was dead; two, the fact that Gordon had his body.

"I have some information that he was sniped by Deathstroke," said Gordon. "Who contracted him; well, it could be anyone, really. This man has more bodies on his hands than the sands on a beach. He's been threatening a number of families and it could be any one of them."

Gordon pointed to the man's skull.

"Clean bullet to the head. Body was dropped off at a local police station. No one saw him come or go. Can't believe it was that easy for the man. Years of trying to get some major dirt on this scumbag and that assassin knocks him off in one blow."

"That's it?" asked Batman.

"`Fraid so," said Gordon, sounding regretful. "I wish there was more, really I do."

Well, it was still something. It showed that Deathstroke was still on the move; still working. But whether or not Dick had been with the man during the contract was a whole other story. Batman couldn't imagine Dick going along something like that quietly; but then again, a lot can happen to a kid's psyche in four controlled months with a sociopathic kidnapper.

"Basically another dead end," murmured Batman out loud.

"Well, I guess all we can really do at this point is pray for the poor kid," said Gordon, placing a hand on Batman's shoulder. "I'll be sure to relate that to the rest of my family."

A deep feeling bitterness rose inside Batman's chest. While he knew this man meant well, Batman couldn't help but be reminded of his current failure. After all, what could prayer do when he couldn't even save the kid himself. Wasn't he Batman? Wasn't he supposed to be able to crack anything? Wasn't he acclaimed to be the world's greatest detective. Just how much longer was he supposed to live with this ineptitude, with this obstruction to his abilities in saving the one kid that needed it the most?

Who was watching over that kid? Who was protecting him? Was there anyone who cared enough to save that kid from the devil himself? What could prayer do now? What God would let a fourteen year old boy fall into such a predicament in the first place?

What God would let a child's parents be ripped away from him?

Batman and Dick had so much more in common then they truly realized.

Prayer wasn't going to help anyone here. They needed action; they needed clues; they needed leads; they needed something,_ anything_ that could just shed a glimmer of light – that glimmer of light which gave affirmation that the kid could still be saved.

Humans were alone to save themselves, after all.

There was a flutter that passed over Batman, yet there was no wind. A trilling thought rose inside his mind, but it greatly confused him.

"_Wait a little longer. Never give up hope."_

The flutter disappeared just as suddenly as it came. Batman heavily considered the strange thought. It wasn't his own, that much was for sure. As he pondered on it, he grew angry. _'Never give up hope.'?_ _'Wait a little longer.'?_ For what? For that kid to get killed? How much longer would he have to endure such pain? Just when was Batman allowed to swoop in and save that kid?

After he committed his first theft? After he had killed his first target? After he was brainwashed beyond recognition? Just when was the right time for that kid to be saved? How much longer did he have to endure this kidnapping?

How many times was he being starved? How many times was he being beaten? How many times did he cry all alone? How many times did he sink into despair?

Four months?! The boy, the kid, _that child_ had been missing for over _four cruel, evil_ months! Just how much more did he have to endure when it was enough? When was he going to catch a break? When would the balance of life be satisfied with the pain that he had endured?

Wasn't losing his parents enough? Wasn't getting tortured by these Gotham idiots enough?

Wasn't getting stuck with such a poor guardian enough?

Hadn't the kid suffered enough?

"I know you're a man of secrets, but if there's anything more I can do, you let me know," said Gordon.

The bitterness of his heart created a bad taste in Batman's mouth. His stance hardened as he looked at the aged commissioner.

"How can you find this man, when not even I, supposedly the world's greatest detective, cannot find even so much as a trace of him?

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Three: Test of Trust – Feeling the need for complete emotional security, Dick decides to put Slade to the ultimate test to see if the man will truly keep his word. Will Slade revert to his old ways or will he keep his promise?

**Author's Notes:** So, because of **Songsoftherain's** review, an idea popped into my head. What wasn't originally planned for this chapter appeared – aka, that POV from Batman. ^^ Like I always say, all reviews are more helpful than you can imagine. Originally in the beginning, I never planned to do POVs from Batman except once. Because of reviews, I ended up adding two more. ^^ I am most thrilled with his POVs, so I am thankful that the ideas were able to be inspired by reviews. Thanks a bunch!

I love child Dick. Just saying. Writing him is too much fun. I can really hear him crying 'Mama!' in my head when he's all excitable. So cute.

Mmm… I wonder how many of you are now screaming after hearing the next chapter blurb. Aheh…

*flees*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	33. Test of Trust

**Author's Note:** You guys are so… so honoring. *flushes* Thank you so much. I can't believe it sometimes. Truly, thank you everyone. ^-^ *huggles*

Mmm... early morning update because sleep evades me. T_T

Aheh, I'm actually never worried about spelling errors since Word takes care of that with its identification system; it's those pesky missing or added words I've gotta be careful about – and alike sounding words, too. XD But since a lot of the time I just can't see them, they go under the radar. Sometimes, I'll come back to a chapter and find 3+ typos/mistakes and I'm like, "I thought I edited you five billion times already?! You typos pop up like daisies!"

Dear **Lia**: I'm so sorry to hear that you're going through a difficult time. I truly hope that'll get better for you real soon! I'm honored that my story can bring a smile to your face. ^^ And that is a very good point that you make there. I'll have to figure out how to perhaps add a little bit of that in there next time around that I edit this for the free Kindle version that I'll create. Definitely something I should add. I love how you think that there was some deep reason why I didn't add it; when probably, I just forgot. XD ROTLF! I'm shocked that I haven't forgotten more, actually. So, thank you for pointing that out. It's extremely helpful.

As for the ages, Grant would've been 23 years old, Joseph is 20, and Rose would've been 16. And as for the chapters – this is now set in stone – 50 chapters plus 1 epilogue. According to the updating schedule that I've created for myself, final update will be on Friday, August 2nd within a full week finality update. ^^ This will change, though, in the Kindle version, because I'll be compacting the first 15 chapters. I'll probably add some content through editing, too. I've just avoided doing so at this time until every single chapter is done and been edited for posting.

I spent an entire week formulating this chapter. Every day was spent working on this chapter, trying to figure it, trying to say the right thing. At the time, this chapter became one of the biggest chapter to date. Funny how over time my chapters just keep getting longer, especially after editing and reworking. I cannot believe this chapter broke 9k. This is insane. o.O

The balance of the entire story rests on this chapter. Good luck everyone and good luck, Dick.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**Test of Trust**

**January 26th, 2009. Monday, 6:37 am.**

Dick was lying in his bed, thinking hard before he got up to start the day. His main thoughts were heavily set on what had happened the previous night; where, after his nightmare, he had sought for Slade – something he'd never imagine doing months ago. Slade hadn't ridiculed him, nor sent him away; he actually invited Dick inside his room and even let him fall asleep inside his bed.

And somehow, Dick had felt safe.

There was one thing Dick was very aware of: he needed stability. And Slade was beginning to give it to him. Dick felt more comfortable around the man. He was even getting to the point of feeling safe when he was nearby. He felt uneasy when the man wasn't around, taking comfort in the man's mere presence. Also, Slade had been keeping his promise.

But what if Dick did something absolutely terrible, something that was completely unforgivable? Would Slade, even then, still keep his promise? While Slade had not once struck him out of anger, that nagging worry hadn't completely gone away.

If he had to stay here forever, be this man's heir whether he wanted to or not, then Dick felt a strong need to fully trust the man and feel completely safe with him. Maybe then Dick could convince him not to force certain things. If Dick didn't have to kill, he'd probably be content to stay by Slade's side.

But he couldn't – not with that nagging little voice in the back of his mind.

So…

Dick would have to test the man.

It was probably suicidal thinking. But, as always, desperate times call for desperate measures. There was a huge crazy risk to all this. If Slade reverted to his old ways, Dick would probably be beaten to a pulp – broken bones galore. But if Slade did keep his word, Dick would most likely find himself in that embarrassing and childish position once again; getting the walloping of his life.

Either way, Dick was sure to experience some kind of physical discomfort, to say the very least.

Was the emotional reward that important to risk all that?

Yes, Dick desperately needed that emotional security. With either outcome, he'd know what to expect and how to proceed in his dealings with Slade. If Slade was not trustworthy, then Dick would just have to take it in stride. He'd know to always second question the man's words; walk on eggshells around him. But if Slade was trustworthy, then Dick could truly count on the man; could truly depend on him for anything.

In truth, though, Dick wasn't sure which outcome frightened him more.

So, how to push Slade to his very edge? Dick had to make the man absolutely furious with him. He had to push him beyond his snapping point.

But what could Dick do? While Dick hadn't really smart mouthed Slade much recently, when he did, the man had more control. It was as if Dick's back talking outbursts weren't affecting Slade's temper as much as they did earlier. There were times the man didn't even do his breathing thing to calm down before coolly reprimanding him in that childish way.

It was like Slade's patience with Dick had grown.

Dick knew there was only one way to truly make the man furious. He had done it once before, after all. Would Slade deal with him any different than the last time? Would he truly keep his promise if Dick did the same thing he did before?

The very thought was frightening, crazy, and nerve racking. But Dick knew it was the only thing that would work. It was dangerous and stupid, no doubt; but the value of the emotional security would be well worth it. Dick was stuck here. For his clarity of mind and peace of heart, he had to do this.

Meaning, use another explosive.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 1st, 2009. Sunday, 8:13 pm.**

The plan had been simple: implant an explosive inside one of the robots in the basement. Then, he could detonate it and cause it to walk further away before the explosion occurred – he'd program the robot to have complete control over it. Dick made very sure that Wintergreen wasn't going to come down the stairs at this time and Slade was dealing with something else on the other side of the room. It had taken a few days to gather some of the parts without Slade noticing; but because of the man's training, Dick found it relatively easy to create the makeshift explosive.

Now he was trying to plant it into the robot at that very moment.

Dick's fingers trembled as he worked the wiring inside the robot. The past months of training and education were, Dick had to admit, extremely useful. Things that hadn't been within his abilities came like second nature to him now. Never would he had been able to rewire a robot or build his own explosive.

But here he was, doing both and all for a frightening reason.

Dick glanced over his shoulder nervously at Slade. The man was still busy and wasn't looking over. Dick's heart was pumping wildly in his chest as the adrenaline poured through his veins. He knew this was crazy – he obviously wasn't thinking right. This explosive with the robot was dangerous, but it was the only thing that would really test Slade. He had to do something that would set Slade off. Thus, Dick close the back of the robot shut and stood up; backing up a few paces and clicking the detonation; preparing to set the destination coordinates.

But then, something went terribly wrong.

It was absolutely apparent that any foreign objects and programming to the robot threw the entire machinery out of whack; because the robot began to rampage through some of the nearby equipment, destroying everything in its path. Dick scrambled back in fear. The robot turned and stopped for a moment before it started to advance on him.

Dick's heart began to panic. The robot was going to blow up in a few moments. This thing could injure him—it could injure Slade—

_Oh crap!_

Dick really didn't want to injure Slade. He just wanted the thing to blow up—make the man furious. But if Slade got caught in the blast…

The robot began to advance faster.

"_Slade!_" shouted Dick, whirling around and rushing to the man as fast as he could. "_Get down!_"

Slade turned around with a raised eyebrow. He was about to open his mouth and say something, but his eye widened as he saw what was happening.

Five seconds until detonation.

Dick put everything into his body as he ran. His only thoughts were to protect Slade. He had to get the man to duck for cover – he just _had_ to. He'd never forgive himself if he caused permanent injury to him – it didn't matter who he was. Dick never wanted to hurt someone like that; foe or friend.

Dick could feel the robot close behind him.

Then, Dick's small body collided into Slade's much larger one with great force; causing the two of them to topple backwards. Dick felt the man's impact land onto the ground; a second later the explosion struck. The second the sound blasted through the air, Dick felt Slade's arms wrap around his head. As the Dick felt the rush of hot air blow over him, Slade curled half of his body over him as if in protecting him.

A few moments passed as the blast settled. Dick could feel chips of debris all over him; then, there was the sound of a_ clunk_ nearby. Slade uncurled himself from Dick.

"Are you all right?" asked Slade, worry thoroughly prevalent in his tone. Dick nodded jerkily. He hadn't been expecting that; guess he still had much to learn from the man. There was a twisting feeling in his chest. Dick had been trying to protect Slade, but instead the man had used his own body as a shield. The guilt was beginning to eat and tear apart Dick's insides. This was all his fault.

And it was only beginning.

Slade brushed off the debris and dust from his shirt, and then commenced doing the same with Dick. The man spent a little extra time doing that, as if in checking for any injuries. Then, Slade stood up and pulled Dick to his feet. Slade continued to eye him carefully.

Dick felt faint. He was trembling and he seriously hoped that Slade wouldn't notice quite yet.

But he had to go through with his plan. This was it. This was his chance to see if Slade would keep his word – really keep his word even in the most terrible of sins. No matter the outcome, Dick truly hoped that the man would at least forgive him for putting him through this. Slade honestly looked very worried over him. Dick felt like a complete jerk for doing this. But after all that Dick had to endure with this situation, he had to make sure just where Slade truly stood.

He needed to know.

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Slade again, his expression frowning slightly. "You look pretty shaken up."

"I'm fine," squeaked Dick. He swallowed nervously. How was he going to do this? He was so frightened to death to even speak properly. How the heck was he supposed to just outright tell Slade that this was his doing?

Slade looked over at the area as he lifted a hand to run through his hair.

"What on earth happened?" said Slade, dropping his hand after a moment. "This is highly unusual."

Dick took this opportunity. He prayed to the heavens that he wasn't going to die through this. If there ever was a deity, Dick seriously hoped that said deity would get him through this – _alive_.

"It was my fault," said Dick, choking the words out as quickly as he could. Slade looked down at him; his eyebrow raising. Dick's heart rose into his throat, pounding furiously in his pure fright. Every part of his body was trembling and his skin began to form a sheen of sweat.

"You were playing with it?"

Dick vigorously shook his head. Slade raised his eyebrow again. Dick's voice caught in his throat and he couldn't speak. Fear and stress began to pour through his entire body. The palms of his hands were getting extremely damp. Dick's breathing began to intensify. He had to do this. He had to go through with this. He had to push Slade to his limits.

_Forgive me…_

"It's all my fault," cried Dick, the word squeaking through his throat. Slade pursed his lips as he studied Dick. Then, Slade let out a small sigh mixed with an inaudible laugh.

"Dick, you need to clarify yourself. Quickly, too," said Slade, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'm starting to think up quite a few scenarios that aren't pleasant and just can't be true. You need to tell me that this wasn't on purpose. Tell me this was an _accident._"

"It—wasn't," blurted Dick quickly, his breath hitching once; his heart rapidly pounding against his chest so hard, he swore at any minute it'd break through his flesh. Slade's eye widened.

"Dick…"

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

"I did this on purpose," cried Dick, hurrying. "I–I–I put an explosive inside the robot."

"You messed with an explosive?" breathed Slade, looking completely taken aback. "After…"

Dick nodded rapidly. The quicker Slade realized what was going on the faster they could get this over with. Dick wasn't sure how much longer he could handle the twisting guilt in his stomach. He felt terrible. He couldn't bear this. He hated himself.

Slade took a step closer to him. Dick didn't move. He locked his jaw, trying his all to keep from trembling to death. He wasn't going to run away now.

This was it.

"Dick, tell me this isn't what I think it is," breathed Slade in a soft, dangerous tone. The man stepped closer, now less than a foot away from him. Dick lifted his head more to look up into the man's face. He felt so small before this man. It took all his strength to open his mouth. He had to voice it. He had to speak. He needed to know the truth. With one final swallow, Dick locked his jaw even more; pulling his most defiant look he could throughout his face.

"I did it on purpose."

_Please forgive me…_

_I'm so sorry._

There was stilled silence as Dick looked up into the man's face. Dick watched as a change flowed over Slade. Pure fury began to settle inside his grey blue eye, sending a deep chill down Dick's back. But he held his ground. Slade's eye widened with the fury as his entire expression became livid.

"Is this really true?" asked Slade in a terribly dark tone; ice frozen throughout his voice. Dick took a deep breath.

"Yes, sir."

Slade looked enraged with this answer. Dick was roughly grabbed by the shoulder; Slade's hand rising into the air as if to strike him. Dick squeezed his eyes shut; waiting for the inevitable strike.

Well, so that was that. Slade couldn't be trusted. After all this time… the man couldn't be trusted. All the pleasant moments they had spent together were just a fake fantasy; an illusory idealism; a deceptive dream. There was no way Dick could ever come to trust or rely on this man. It was nice while it lasted.

But Dick couldn't stop the depression that filled his entire being.

The thought of not being able to trust Slade seemed to be more crushing on his soul than he had originally thought.

Total despair rose inside Dick's chest. It was horribly overpowering in its strength. He nearly gasped at its power – he hadn't counted on this feeling. His eyes burned with fear and desolation. He wanted to cry; break down into terrible heart wrenching, body wracking sobs. There was no hope now. He was utterly alone in everything. Slade hadn't changed; he just had held back. The man couldn't keep his word.

There was no hope; Dick was forever lost – _alone_.

_So alone_.

Slade clenched his raised hand; taking everything he had to keep from striking this wrenched boy. How dare he do this _again?!_ What on earth happened? What was this stupid, idiotic boy _thinking!?_ Hadn't Slade made it _very_ clear never to do something like this again? Hadn't been getting brutally beaten been a deep enough message? What was going through this boy's head?!

But something unimaginably soft held back his hand.

Slade knew; he couldn't strike. He had to hold back. He promised the boy. He had _promised_ – sworn to keep his word. He had to get a hold of himself. No matter how much he wanted to beat and shake this dangerous and destructive stupidity right out of this irritatingly _idiotic_ child, he just couldn't. A part of his heart couldn't bear it.

It took all of Slade's energy to drop his hand onto the boy's other shoulder; his hands lightly squeezing both of the thin shoulders beneath his grasp. Dick visibly flinched. Slade bowed his head, trying to calm the terrible rage that was eating through his entire being. It was taking every single amount of his control to keep from shaking this child so hard until his brain rattled inside his head.

"Go to your room," murmured Slade finally, taking deep, deep breaths.

"_B–but…_"

"_Now!_" shouted Slade fiercely, unable to stop himself from shaking the boy once. Dick whirled on his heels out of Slade's grasp and fled to the stairs. Slade placed a hand over his face as he listened to the quick, frantic footsteps that rushed up the stairs. The basement door slammed shut. Slade waited a few moments before he slowly walked to the stairs as well. His footsteps were slow and heavy, taking him much longer to reach the upper floor. He turned the door handle and slowly opened the door.

"Slade, what's going?" asked Wintergreen, rounding on him and beginning to bombard him the second Slade stepped into the kitchen. "What was that explosion? And Richard just passed through here looking far more depressed and frightened than I've ever seen him. Is he all right? What on _earth_ is going on around here?"

Slade didn't answer at first; settling into a chair and resting his elbow onto the table. He placed his face into his hand, rubbing his uncovered eye with his fingers. His fury was bubbling through his entire core. He had to remain calm. Speaking seemed impossible, but listening to Wintergreen's constant interrogations wasn't the better option.

"Dick… placed an explosive inside one the robots and detonated it," whispered Slade, trying not to explode himself.

"He did _what?!_"

"Please don't make repeat myself," murmured Slade, shaking his head once.

He wasn't sure what to do. Why on earth would the boy do something so stupid? Hadn't Slade made it _very_ clear before not to use any explosives?

And it wasn't even as if the boy had done it to escape or anything like last time. It seemed as if he had merely done it for the sake of doing it. Slade couldn't figure out the boy's motives. There was no reasoning to this. Dick had looked petrified with fear over it, but Slade could tell he had done it completely on purpose. When Slade had realized that, he nearly lost himself and struck the boy.

Slade was just thankful that he hadn't.

Nonetheless, saying that Slade was thoroughly pissed off couldn't even begin to tilt the edge of what he was feeling at that very moment. There were no words to describe the tumult of fury that was rising and burning through his entire being; like a terrible bubbling volcano of molten lava.

He couldn't even bear to look at the boy right now. If he did, Slade feared he might do something he'd greatly regret later on.

"Slade, what happened between you two?" asked Wintergreen, pulling up a chair to sit at the table.

"I… almost struck him."

There was a sharp intact of breath from Wintergreen.

"Oh, Slade…" murmured Wintergreen. "No wonder the child looked so terribly depressed. You need to go reassure him right away."

"I can't right now."

"But—"

"_If I go now I might hurt him worse than I want to!_" shouted Slade into his hand, his entire body shaking with his fury. His tone dropped like a stone as he continued, "I can't… I can't see him right now. I'm too…"

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them. Then, there was the sound of a chair scraping before Slade felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Slade, I know you're trying your very best with that child," whispered Wintergreen. "But you have to think about Richard right now. Every moment he's left to his thoughts unravels the progress the two of you have achieved these past few months. I'd hate to see that happen. You need to go now. I'm sure you can withhold your temper with him."

The hand withdrew.

"After all, you managed to do so in the heat of the moment – thank goodness, too, because I wasn't watching you two at that moment. I'm sure you can do it now in the cool down time."

Slade took a deep breath, soaking in the old man's words.

_I did hold myself back. _

_Am I truly gaining more control over my temper? Had the boy done this months ago, he'd be in terrible shape right now, no doubt. Have I really been able to cultivate such growth in myself?_

_When had this change begun?_

Slade slowly stood, taking deep breaths as he did so. Wintergreen was right; he had been able to hold back in the heat of the moment. Dick had truly been at his most defiant peak and Slade had been able to hold himself back. If he could do it at that climatic moment, then there was no reason why he couldn't do it now.

"Do you want a little more advice?" asked Wintergreen. Slade found himself able to smile.

"When have you actually asked before giving it?" drawled Slade lightly, his smirk heavily tugging at his mouth. Wintergreen chuckled somewhat, before the light in his eyes darkened.

"This doesn't seem like normal behavior in Richard. Wouldn't you agree?"

_Normal behavior?_ What was normal behavior in Dick? Slade thought of the previous few months, especially the more recent ones. Dick's general behavior, when he was content and happy, was normally very cooperative. He was a cheerful kid and even mischievous at times. Sure he had a smart mouth when his temper got away with him, but that was easily trained out of him – which was slowly becoming better, actually.

But to blatantly do something that he _knew_ was dangerous; something that he _knew_ was expressly against Slade's rules; something that he had once already been brutally punished for – all this just didn't seem to make any sense. The boy was intelligent after all and this wasn't one of his intelligent moves.

Slade swiped a hand over his face. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. If Dick was female, Slade could've just explained it away to feminine illogic. There was no understanding females – _ever_. But Dick was male, therefore logic was a must. It was in his biological make up for crying out loud! Doing something so stupid was illogical. Where did Dick come off being this illogical?!

"Slade, do you know what I think?" asked Wintergreen in a soft undertone. Slade merely looked at the old man with an expectant eye. "I think Richard is testing you."

Slade reeled at that. He clasped the back of his chair to steady himself; slowly lowering to sit down. He hadn't been expecting that – no, that was the _last_ thing he had been thinking.

Testing him?

That… was somewhat logical. Stupid, foolish, idiotic, crazy, dangerous, infuriating, it was; but also quite logical – at least from the boy's perspective.

"Richard must've still been unsure if you would break your promise with him," continued Wintergreen in a gentle tone. "Sometimes children will test the boundaries to see what adults are made of. I'm sure you remember some of the things your other children did sometimes."

Slade closed his eye for a moment.

Why, for the love of all that was holy, would that stupid boy push Slade to this extreme? What if Slade hadn't kept his promise? Did the boy have a death wish? One thing was obvious, Slade had nearly lost his temper with the boy. He had almost struck him out of pure fury. Nothing would have brought him more satisfaction than to shake that boy and shout at him and demand to know _why_ of all the things he could've done, _why_ _that?!_

_He could've gotten hurt! What would've I done if…_

_He could've…_

…_just like Grant; just like Rose; just like Joey._

But now there was something far different rising inside of Slade's chest. He was feeling so disappointed. He couldn't believe Dick would do this. He had thought that they had been doing so well. But how could Dick pull such a stunt? It was just so… Slade couldn't explain the feelings that were bothering him. He just couldn't understand this.

One thing was for sure, if Dick really was testing him, then Slade still had to do this right. The boy was expecting _something_; some sort of retribution. He probably was thinking the worst now since Slade had almost struck him. Slade was going to have to tread carefully through this if he wanted to maintain the boy's trust. He couldn't lose this now, not after all the distance they had come.

Slade wasn't about to lose Dick.

Without another word to Wintergreen, Slade stood back up and turned away; beginning his walk down the hallway. He took each step slowly and carefully; thinking through everything that had happened with a detached air in his mind. He would not rage at the boy – it'd get them nowhere. It would not help neither Slade nor the boy.

As he stood outside the boy's door, Slade placed his hands onto his hips and looked up at the ceiling. He could do this. He wasn't going to shout or yell or scare Dick. That wasn't going to bring trust – only fear. Slade no longer just wanted to have Dick's total obedience, he also wanted Dick's heart swayed towards his new position that Slade was preparing him for – his apprentice, his heir.

Slade clasped the door handle and slowly opened the door softly. Slade instantly saw that the boy was curled up on the bed in a defensive ball, his back pressed against the corner of the back wall. As Slade stepped into the room, shutting the door behind himself, Dick fearfully looked up. Slade could see a flash of emotions flood over his face. Then, Dick's lips trembled slightly as he averted his eyes; almost seeming to push himself more against the wall, but obviously couldn't go any further.

Slade walked over the desk chair, setting it so he was facing the boy; but not too close to give him some breathing room. Dick looked terribly frightened, but more so in complete anguish and depression. Dick lowered his face into his knees, his arms trembling against their hold around his legs.

"Dick," began Slade in the softest tone he could manage, "I want you to explain yourself."

There was no movement.

"You told me before that you did this on purpose. I need you to tell me why."

This time there was some movement. Dick shook his head softly, yet no sound escaped from his small body. Slade was honestly trying not to become irritated with this, but he was. What was really irking him was the fact that Dick wouldn't even do him the courtesy of looking up at him.

"_Look at me_," breathed Slade darkly. "You will _look_ at me through this."

Dick slowly obeyed. He lifted his face from his knees. Light shone from the boy's glittering eyes as he looked directly into Slade's face. Dick's jaw was locked in complete, pure fear. Slade knew right then he wasn't going to get an answer to his request at that moment. Thus, he tried a different approach.

"Remind me; what's the penalty for such blatant disobedience?" asked Slade.

The boy merely tightened his arms around his legs and settled his chin against his knees. Those bright blue eyes were glimmering, almost shattering with despair.

"Answer me," said Slade, keeping his tone commanding without frightening the boy too much.

"_I_…"

Dick's voice was uncharacteristically cracked and tiny. Slade could barely even hear the boy.

"Have you forgotten?" asked Slade. Those blue eyes blinked, while those lips trembled worriedly. "I see. It appears that you have."

Slade motioned with a single finger.

"Come to me."

There was a long moment as Dick's eyes widened in fear. It took another moment as Dick slowly uncurled his arms from his legs; sliding forward to the edge of the bed. Soon, he stood and moved towards Slade; each movement filled with hopelessness and defeated depression. Slade clasped the boy's arms and pulled him even closer so that his knees touched Dick's legs.

"I want you to tell me why you did what you did earlier when you're fully aware of the dangers and the consequences that follow such foolishness, stupidity, and recklessness," said Slade in a soft voice. "I have no need to remind you of the fact that you could've been _killed_; that you could've been gravely injured beyond repair. So, explain to me: why?"

There was a quiet moment before there was a low murmur. The boy was positively petrified with fear. It was written throughout his face. His eyes were wide and glimmering with the burning of potential tears. His lips trembled uncontrollably. Slade could actually feel Dick trembling beneath his hands as he clutched the boy by the arms.

"A verbal answer, if you please," said Slade, turning his tone more demanding. "My patience is wearing thin. I want an explanation and I want it _now_."

There was an audible gulp from the boy as he swallowed. His lips trembled even more. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound escaped. It was obvious that the boy was too distraught to speak, so Slade waited silently for the boy to be able to talk. Finally, some words began to form.

"I… I don't have one," whispered Dick in a very low voice; Slade barely could make out what the boy said. Slade narrowed his eye and the boy hurried to continue in his whisper, "I was trying to be defiant."

Slade inhaled through his nose in the effort to refrain from shaking the boy right then and there. _Trying to be defiant?_ What on earth was this boy on? Surely that couldn't be right. Dick was terribly frightened at that moment. There wasn't a muscle that wasn't trembling in his body – that much was apparent.

Had the boy truly been testing Slade to see if he would keep his word? Why on earth had the boy felt the need to test their tentative relationship? And Slade had almost failed that test. It _irked_ Slade to no end that this boy could've driven him to such a position as to losing control over himself.

That was it: Slade wasn't just angry about the exploding _blasted_ robot – although he was furious over that—the boy, once again, could've _injured_ himself – he was truly livid over the fact that he had almost failed the boy. Slade had almost destroyed everything that he had been trying to build over the past few months. He could've destroyed it all in one mere split second.

And even now, the boy was still testing him. Those defiant words that he was trying to stand by were more than enough proof. Usually Dick was quick to admit his fault and guilt. But through his defiance, his fear was all too prevalent.

Slade pulled the boy closer so that he was staring into the boy's eyes less than a foot away.

"I told you over three months ago what I'd do with blatant disobedience," whispered Slade. "What did I tell you?"

Those lips were trembling again. Long black eyelashes slipped over crystal blue orbs before lifting again.

"_What did I tell you?_" repeated Slade in that same whisper, squeezing Dick's arms once.

The boy swallowed again, but offered only silence as he stared directly into Slade's eye. Slade held back a deep sigh that wanted to escape his entire being.

"Since you seem to have forgotten, I shall remind you," said Slade, his voice swift. Those sparking eyes scrunched closed suddenly, almost expectantly waiting for a blow. Even after all the hints Slade had dropped, the boy _still_ thought he was going to be beaten? Once again, Slade vaguely questioned the boy's intelligence.

That's it. This boy was going to be the death of him. The boy didn't want to kill people, hm? Well, just how bad would he feel when he realized that he was responsible for Slade's untimely death; a horrific death caused by all this emotional _drama_ and _crap_ that the boy was pulling on him – there was no doubt about _that_.

And speaking of doubt, it was time to clear the air of it.

Slade released the boy's arms.

"Well, come on," said Slade in a firm tone; deciding against manhandling the boy in the hope that he'd understand what was to come; to give him some reassurance – anything to clear that unbending despair in those striking eyes. "Bend over my knee."

Those crystal orbs popped open, wide in surprise. Slade fought against the urge to smirk and drawl at the boy. Instead, he kept his face impassive as he waited for the boy to comply with his command. It took a minute for the boy to register that he was required to position himself for his punishment. But he still didn't make any movement, looking slightly confused over the whole thing.

Unable to bite back a sigh, Slade swiftly, but gently guided the boy over his lap.

Dick sucked in his breath in his surprise. Slade was serious. Slade was keeping his promise – his word. Slade wasn't ever going to beat him – _ever again_. He was never going to hurt Dick like that again. He had held back. He hadn't struck him or beaten him. Even in the most grievous of sins, Slade was keeping his word. There was a flow of relief that washed over him.

Dick could trust Slade.

Well, sort of, anyways. Dick wasn't sure if he was thinking clearly anymore. He had to be an idiot to test Slade and now, once again, the man was walloping him like a little kid. And each strike was like never before. The man was using far more force than he had ever used against Dick since the change and he wasn't letting up, either. The man stayed quiet; constant with every hard, biting slap – each building the stinging raw fire in his seat. Dick squeezed his eyes shut and accepted it, gripping a leg of the chair in each hand to steady himself. He had expected something, but it was still a shock to him that the man was fulfilling his word.

It was a comfort.

A painful one, but a comfort nonetheless.

The relief that Dick felt over the fact that he could trust the man's word was overpowering. Moments ago, his entire soul had nearly died in the terrible, total despair and hopelessness that his situation would never get better. It had seemed as if all was lost. But now new hope began to rise inside. It really did seem like now Dick could depend on everything getting better from here on out.

It could only get better now.

Finally, after quite a few minutes, Dick attempted to rasp out his apology. He seriously needed the man to stop; Slade wasn't letting up still. He wasn't sure if he could bear through this stoically for any longer and the thought of breaking down into sobs over this man's knees right now would be the ultimate blow.

"_Slade_…" The harsh hand raining on his seat stopped for a moment, waiting. "I'm sorry," murmured Dick, his voice hoarse and almost to the point of choking out a sob. "I'm _really_ sorry."

There was a long moment of nothing, before the punishment continued. Dick's breathing hitched as the burning in his eyes intensified to an alarming level. Was he still in trouble? Was the man that furious with him? Would he ever be forgiven for this? No matter how much he now fully trusted this man, it didn't mean that Slade would be so inclined to return the same.

But then, after another minute, Dick was _finally_ righted by those strong, powerful hands to stand before Slade.

It took every part of Dick's self control not to break down and start crying right then and there. He kept his face down and hidden just in case he did break down. His eyes were burning terribly and his breathing heavy in deep heaves as he tried to hold back the tears. The emotions of his heart were running haywire, causing his control to be so more fragile, so more brittle than it normally was; not to mention his seat hurt far more than he ever could've imagined – even with Dick's claim to a high pain tolerance. If he ever thought Slade had been hard before, this time cleared any thought – Slade had been holding back. His seat hadn't _ever_ hurt this much, he swore to that.

But still… It was far different than the last time he used an explosive with this man.

So far different.

There was no absolute terror here. There was no paralyzing fear that stilled his very heart and soul in its crushing weight. He could still remember that fear, that _terror_ he had felt in Slade's petrifying presence. The man's fury and wrath last time had no comparison to any creature's rage on the planet. Truly, Slade's fury had been at its crowning peak in its purity at that moment and it was Dick's total fear that had brought the regret. While Slade had berated his actions, it was overshadowed by the cruelty.

And he had hated that man.

But now it was so different. Slade had been furious with Dick, yes; but it had been reeled in. It had been controlled completely. Dick could readily read the disappointment from the man. Once Dick realized that Slade was keeping his word, his promise, there was no more fear. He no longer feared this man like he had once before. Even with the very painful walloping, he didn't fear Slade. He deserved it, after all. He had very much earned this one.

No, Dick didn't fear him anymore; no indeed, there was now a great deal of honor, reverence, and respect for this man. Slade kept his word and it was through that very fact that opened the floodgates of those special and reserved feelings – feelings that were meant only for the most worthy of adults.

The past was now erased in Dick's mind. He knew, at that very moment, the treatment he had received from the man that first terrible month was now forgiven. Slade was completely forgiven in Dick's heart. Since he knew that the man would care enough to keep his word, the past no longer mattered – only the future. All that was left was a clean slate, a clean canvas. What would be painted there? What hopes, dreams, moments, mistakes, choices would stroke the canvas with their colors and lines to create the picture of the future?

Only time would tell.

Perhaps, one day, Dick would forgive Slade for taking him away.

Although, he might've already done so.

Slade stood up and placed a hand on the back of Dick's neck. Dick was maneuvered away until he was at the corner of the wall nearest to the door. Slade moved his hand upwards to Dick's head and pushed him into the corner.

"Stay there until I say otherwise."

Oh gosh.

Forget getting walloped. Being forced into the 'corner' for a 'time out' had to be the most childish punishment yet. Dick literally felt four inches tall and definitely felt like a naughty little four year old. This had to be the worse. But he accepted his punishment, knowing full well he deserved it for putting the man through all this. He leaned his forehead against the wall; resting his flushed face against the cold surface. Unbidden tears finally started to slip down his cheeks.

He felt terrible for testing Slade like this. The man looked so tired by the whole thing; almost burdened, even. But Dick had to – he _had_ to know beyond a shadow of a doubt. But he hadn't been prepared for the wave of emotions that came from the knowledge that he could trust Slade fully and completely. What he really wished was that Slade would leave him alone for awhile so he could cry in peace.

It was so strange, feeling this way – feeling that he needed to be able to trust Slade. He had just come off what seemed like a terrible rollercoaster of emotions. At first, he truly thought Slade was going to revert back to beating him again. The thought of not being able to trust Slade had been so drowning in its hopelessness that Dick had wondered if he'd ever be able to recover again.

But when Slade kept his word, the hope flooded back through Dick's soul. His need to be able to trust Slade was overwhelming and now with that knowledge, Dick just couldn't take it anymore – he needed to cry. The relief was so powerful that he needed the purging that crying offered him. But he seriously didn't want to cry in front of Slade. He just needed to be alone for a few minutes.

"I know why you did this," said Slade, his voice tired and soft. Dick's eyes widened, more tears filling the edges. Did Slade know _everything?_ "I'm extremely disappointed that you felt the need to test me."

Those words stung far more than fire in his seat. The tears spilled over the edges and slipped down his cheeks. Dick was suddenly very thankful that Slade couldn't see his face.

"Not that I can fault you for that," murmured Slade. "It's not like I gave you anything stable to trust with during that first month. Nonetheless, I'm still disappointed in you and…"

Slade trailed off; the unspoken words seeping into Dick's soul.

'…_and in myself.'_

"I almost didn't pass your little _test_," continued Slade in a soft undertone. "Which irritates me that you would push me to such an extreme. Don't you _ever_ do this again, do you understand me? A simple nod will do."

Dick immediately complied with this; his head nodding and sliding against the cooled surface of the wall. The action brought relief to his flushed forehead.

"If you do, you know what will happen – not only that, I'll _double_ the length of this," said Slade, his tone turning firmer as he spoke. "I don't want you _ever_ testing me like this again. _Ever._ No need to mention messing with my robots or explosives."

"…_yes, sir_," whispered Dick in a terribly quiet voice, almost making his words sounding slurred together.

"And I'll continue to make sure you never feel the need to do so, at any rate," said Slade, now in his soft undertone. "I'll also make you another promise and maybe it'll bring you even more security in this. I swear to _never_ lie to your face. I may have to withhold information, but I'll never lie to you. And in return, I'd like the same. Maybe then you won't feel the need to do something like this again."

Dick's mouth opened slightly at this. Was Slade really promising never to lie to him? If Slade was promising that… and he was a man of his word… Then…

He would keep that promise no matter what.

Dick's eyes began to burn even more as another wave of hot tears slipped down his cheeks. He nodded quickly, his forehead continuing to slide against the wall.

"_I promise_."

Dick wanted to apologize again. He really wanted to tell the man how sorry he was for all this; anything to express his repentance. But at the same time, he'd do the same thing again – just so he could have this peace that was beginning to settle into his heart, mind, and soul. He needed to trust someone. It didn't matter anymore who Slade was; if Dick had to be forced to stay here for the rest of his life, he _needed_ someone to trust and rely on.

And Slade was the only one around that he could depend on.

But somehow, that inert variable seemed like an acceptable choice.

Dick swallowed deeply. His life was being completely turned around by this man. Sometimes he wished none of this had ever happened; that he had never been kidnapped; that he was still the leader of the Teen Titans. But as time moved forward, he was sometimes thankful for the experience. It was almost becoming to the point he desperately wished for both lives now and seriously wishing that he didn't have to choose either one or the other. Slade was becoming someone he could depend on for certain things; things he hadn't had for so many years. Dick wasn't sure what exactly that was, but he could feel it growing inside in heart.

Why did they have to be a Hero and a Villain?

"You may leave that corner now," said Slade after a few, quiet moments. Dick could feel the man's presence behind him. Dick merely nodded, but he didn't move. "You can join me in the kitchen for a bedtime snack, if you like."

"I'll… come shortly," whispered Dick, his voice cracked and hoarse; hoping that the man would leave him alone for just a minute. He just needed a few minutes. There was a long pause before Slade spoke.

"As you wish."

Then, Dick heard the door close shut.

With a deep sigh of relief, the strength left him; the complete exhaustion from all the stress he'd place upon himself came crashing down. Dick collapsed to his knees; curling up into a fetal position. He rubbed his forehead against the rough texture of the carpeted floor; his arms curled around his stomach.

There he began to cry openly, yet softly; his tears sliding down into his open, sobbing mouth – no longer able to hold back.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 1st, 2009. Sunday, 8:51 pm.**

Slade felt drained beyond anything he had ever experienced before in his entire life. He slowly walked into the kitchen, rubbing his tingling hand against his face. He knew he had been very hard on the boy this time; the hardest he'd ever been with him. Slade didn't like it; but he _had_ to make sure the boy knew never to do something like this again.

Why did the boy have to attract danger and trouble like a magnet?! What if that robot had gone even more haywire than it had? What if it had injured Dick? Slade couldn't handle such thoughts. He'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Dick. It'd only prove that he truly couldn't deal with children – and that he had no business doing so. Dick was the only one perfect enough to be his heir. Losing that meant losing everything.

But it was more than that; he couldn't bear another child's death on his hands – especially when that child was Dick.

Slade walked to the table and slipped into a chair, staring at the tablecloth as he continued to reflect on everything; his thoughts swirling and spinning so bad it was almost making him sick to his stomach.

"Well?" asked Wintergreen tentatively. "How'd… it go?"

"He wouldn't even look at me," said Slade, leaning his elbow onto the table and resting his face into his hand. "He must think I was unfair."

"Unfair? Why, were you hard on him?" asked Wintergreen, taking a seat at the table as well.

"I wasn't easy on him," admitted Slade, a dry lilt in his voice. "He undoubtedly felt my hand, that's for sure. I was definitely harder this time than I've ever been. But I _had_ to; especially after he used another explosive. Of all the things to test me with, why did it have to be something so dangerous?"

_He could've been killed. The dead don't come back. I could've…_

"Well, the last time he did something like this, you beat him harshly," said Wintergreen. "I doubt whatever you did was anything near that."

"It certainly wasn't," agreed Slade. "But he still wouldn't look at me, even after I told him that he could come out of the corner."

"You put him in the corner?" asked Wintergreen, sounding completely taken aback.

"I did."

"Well, then…" Approval filled the aged tone. "Well done."

Slade blinked and then lifted his hand away to look at Wintergreen. "Well done?"

"Yes, _well done_, Slade. I think that made everything more… familiar."

"_Familiar?_"

"Good grief, is there an echo in this kitchen?"

"Will—"

"Slade, listen to me," started Wintergreen, leaning his arms onto the table; a serious light entering those hazel green eyes. "I know you're trying to make that child your apprentice. But that's the thing; he's a _child_. He still needs reassuring after such a sharp chastisement. You're not just training him to be your apprentice, you're also raising him into an adult. He's young and vulnerable. He needs consistency, and anything that will reassure him that you are the adult in charge over him and that he is the child. He needs nurturing, but has been greatly deprived of such a thing ever since he was a little boy. You've taken it upon yourself to have him as your apprentice, but you must also fill his emotional needs as well."

"Oh, _please_," drawled Slade, yet without much sarcasm in his tone. "_Please_ tell me you aren't saying that I should've cuddled him afterwards."

"No, of course not. I know that's not your style most of the time. But I am asking if you told him that he's forgiven now. Did you?"

There was a long moment of silence. Slade turned his head away and let out a deep sigh before he answered.

"I did not."

"Oh, Slade…"

"I get it; I get it," snapped Slade sharply.

There had been just a little too much going on to remember that detail.

He sighed and stood up. Leaving the old man at the table, Slade walked down the hallway to the boy's bedroom door. He listened for a moment, but it was silent. He slowly turned the handle and opened the door.

The bed was empty and he glanced at the bathroom to see that the light was off. But where was the boy? Slade stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. Slade turned his head and saw Dick curled up on the floor in the corner on his side, almost in a fetal position.

There was a flash of panic and worry that slipped over Slade as he quickly knelt down beside the boy. For a brief second, he wondered if he had been too hard on Dick – but surely not; he'd taken far worse before. However, as he took a closer look, he noticed that boy was in a fitful sleep. His face was flushed with his tears; his face tear stained with fresh trails. There was a constant stream of murmurs.

"…_I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…_"

Slade frowned. He brushed a hand over the boy's brow; his skin flushed to the touch and even slightly damp. Slade moved his hand to tap lightly against Dick's tear soaked cheek.

"Dick," called Slade in a soft voice. "Dick, wake up."

A pair of glittering, crystal blue eyes peeked through as the boy's eyelids slid slowly open. They were hazed over slightly, but soon they began to focus. They were filled with endless light – light that told of past pain and heartache, yet burned with fire and desire to press forward.

"…_I'm sorry_," murmured Dick in a incredibly soft voice as he saw Slade. "_Please, forgive me… Don't be mad… I'm so sorry…_"

Slade sighed and slipped a hand gently beneath Dick's underarm. He slowly pulled the boy to his feet. Dick quickly swiped a spare hand over his face, as if in the attempt to cover up the fact that he had been crying. Slade directed Dick to his bed and helped him get underneath the covers with Dick lying on his side. Tired, glimmering eyes looked up at him with anxious expectance as Slade brought the covers over his shoulders. With a sigh, Slade pulled up the desk chair towards the bed and sat down in it, before placing a hand onto Dick's shoulder.

"You are forgiven, Dick," said Slade in a gentle tone. There was a light smile that spread through Dick's face as his eyes began to slide close; relief flowing over the boy's countenance.

"Also… I'm not angry with you anymore."

The moment Slade said those words he found that it was completely true. He wasn't angry at the boy anymore. That simmering, festering rage that had been boiling deep inside was completely washed away in one fell swoop. It unsettled Slade that his anger could so easily slip away like that. He was one to be angry, even hold grudges for longer spans of time; held and buried deep within. But somehow, seeing the repentant, almost pleading, gaze that came from those powerful, unending crystal eyes was enough to completely disintegrate any anger in Slade's heart.

Something softened.

Slade began to pat Dick's shoulder lightly in a continuous rhythmic motion. He had done this before with his own children when they couldn't fall asleep. And once again, it was working. The boy gave him another soft smile before it slipped away as he faded into sleep. Slade watched the boy for a few minutes as he slept. He really did look so young and vulnerable; appearing nothing like the fierce and competent warrior that he was. After a few more minutes, Slade carefully withdrew his hand and quietly stood up to leave the boy to rest.

Slade didn't go back to the kitchen. He walked to his bedroom so he could have some moments of peace after all this and so that he could think. Once inside his room, he sat down in his computer chair and leaned back in it; sighing deeply as his body fell in fatigue.

It was becoming clearer and clearer to Slade that Dick was beginning to heavily depend on him for his emotional needs. Wintergreen did say that he needed such things. For a boy who was without emotional stability for the past few years, he was beginning to accept it from anyone who gave it to him.

Even one who was considered his enemy.

The boy was also getting more attached to Slade, which did please him. If the boy was attached to him, the more difficult it was for the boy to defy him; the more the child would _want_ to obey.

But Slade hadn't counted on one thing. Wintergreen mentioned something Slade hadn't really thought of before – the fact that he wasn't just trying to raise and train an apprentice, he also had to raise the boy into a man. Slade had full power over who and what Dick would become. It was a completely different burden than the one of 'master' or 'mentor'.

What it was, Slade wasn't exactly sure what to call it.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Four: The Snow White Lead – After months of searching for something like a needle in a haystack, the Titans finally find the lead they uncovered at the H.I.V.E. Academy; thus, their investigation begins.

**Author's Notes:** This is one of those chapters that I truly love. Maybe because it took so long to write. This is one of those moments that I outlined and wrote out during the first day that I thought of this story. I knew there would be this moment – the moment of Dick testing Slade's word. The initial moment I had written was a mere 500 words for that moment where Slade keeps his promise. As I was rewriting this chapter, I loved how much it expanded so much for the flurry of emotions to be played out.

Truly love this chapter.

I have to say I laugh _every_ time Slade thinks that females are illogical. XD It's just too funny. Logic isn't given to a specific gender, bub. Trust me… LOOLOLOL.

So, how many of you were screaming during the first part of the chapter going like, "_NOOO_, Dick, are you _crazy?!_" Haha… As I was reading this chapter for the _third_ time in a row, I was tired and almost feeling detached from the work. I was then impressed with the feeling about what it would be like to read this without knowing what was going to happen. There's really an emotional ride in this chapter. XD

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	34. The Snow White Lead

**Author's Note:** Thanks a ton for all the reviews, everyone! You're all wonderful. Thanks a bunch! ^-^

I have to say this in response to **GenderBender25**: "I know, right?" *nudges Slade* "Bit slow there, ain't ya, Slade? Get with the program here, would you?"

/worse words to say to a man – just saying.

Aheh, can't get with the program if they don't know what the program is, right? Bytheway, what _is_ the program, anyways?

XD Aheh.

Oh yeah, before I forget again; to answer the question about Tony Zucco, I thought he was killed awhile back. So, no Zucco will come into play.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**The Snow White Lead**

**February 3rd, 2009. Tuesday, 4:22 pm.**

"All right, guys," whispered Cyborg, peeking around the corner to inspect the apartment building. He looked back at the other three team members. "We have to go about this carefully."

Raven folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

"It's the middle of the day. Just go up there and knock."

"No way!" protested Beast Boy. "We've gotta take her by surprise."

"This is ridiculous," muttered Raven with a shake of her head.

Starfire looked between Raven and Cyborg; her bright green eyes searching for answers. She truly hoped they wouldn't fight over this right now. She had her own opinion on how they should deal with this, but she didn't want to cause any arguments. That would just not be helpful at all.

"I am afraid I must agree with Raven," said Starfire, looking apologetic to Cyborg. "I think it would be best if we announce our presence."

"Look, guys," started Cyborg. "I just have this feeling; you know, like guy instinct. We need to tread carefully here."

Raven lifted her eyebrow as if question this new type of feeling of instinct. Starfire was confused and was about to ask about it, when Raven put a hand on her arm.

"Don't. You'll just get a long winded explanation that'll make no sense at all."

Cyborg shot her an offended look, but said nothing.

Starfire looked between the group, feeling the tense emotions that were emanating from her friends. With their dear friend Robin missing now for almost five months, the emotions of each of her friends had intensified. She herself was extremely worried. No doubt everyone thought they'd be able to find something about Robin's whereabouts; perhaps a clue. But there had been nothing, as if their friend had ceased to exist.

And now this was the only clue they had.

It had been a terrible many weeks. Starfire never truly realized just how big Jump City was; just how many people lived inside the city. But it most certainly was a very large city with over two million residents. It had taken them a long time – too long in Starfire's opinion – to find this girl. No one ever had answers when they asked. Finding this girl had been the only thing that drove each and every one of the group; it was the driving force that pushed their souls, that kept them going.

But with every passing day with no luck, the emotions began to build negatively.

Thus, Starfire did her best to lift her friends and try to bring a little cheerfulness to each one. But in doing so, she buried her own emotions in her heart. It was something she never imagined she'd ever do. On her home planet, Tamaran, one _never_ buried their emotions. But Starfire knew that if she let herself wallow in the deep despair that threatened to overpower her daily, she'd never be able to use her powers again.

Remaining emotionally strong was the only glue that was holding her friends together. She could see it completely. She knew Raven was having difficulty controlling her emotions and because of it, her powers. Cyborg always seemed burdened, as if there was a terrible weight on his shoulders. Beast Boy was determined to prove himself and sometimes was a bit overbearing in his resolve.

Such conflicting and raging emotions, explosions were teetering on the edges of all of them. So, Starfire did all she could to become the balance between them. She did not want her friends to experience Rekma, _The Drifting_, where friends were no longer friends. They were a family now and they needed each other more than anything, especially during this terrible trial.

But deep inside Starfire's heart there was an agonizing longing for Robin. Oh, how she missed him! He was her best friend. There wasn't a moment where she didn't think of him or worry for his safety. Was Slade being cruel to him? Was Slade hurting him, depriving him of things? Her heart couldn't bear the thought of Robin suffering. Oh, how at any moment would she gladly trade places with him. Anything, _anything_ to save her precious friend.

How long would it be before she could see his face once again? How long would it be before she could hear his voice once more? How long would it be before she could wrap her arms around him and never let go? How much longer did she have to wait?

How much longer did Robin have to suffer alone?

But Starfire couldn't allow herself to dwell on such feelings and emotions for long. She had to bury it so that she could remain a strength to the others. The one thing she did allow herself to feel was righteous fury – all directed at Slade. When she got her hands on that terrible man, she would rip him limb from limb. She would make him pay for hurting her dear friend, Robin. Once she was through with him, he would never again wish to harm any of her friends – _ever again_.

But she truly prayed to X'hal that Robin was just alive; if he was just alive, then there was hope – nothing else mattered.

"Come on, guys," said Cyborg, beginning to creep forward. Beast Boy followed suit. The two of them hid behind any object they could as they snuck up to the apartment building. Raven let out a long sigh and simply walked forward, not bothering to hide herself. Hesitantly, Starfire followed her example. She just didn't think they should burst into this girl's home. Surely knocking at her door would make her more receptive towards their need.

Cyborg wound his way at the right of the building while Beast Boy did the same at the other side. Raven groaned irritably.

"Those two idiots are going to do something stupid and ruin the whole thing," said Raven, putting a hand to her forehead and shaking her head. "Boys… Always have to do things the hard way."

Starfire watched her two friends from a distance and suddenly had a wave of the bad feeling flow over her. Raven was right; this wasn't a good idea.

But, boys will be boys.

Cyborg burst through the side window, while Beast Boy went through the other. There was the sound of shattering glass and a small gasp of fright. Raven groaned deeply and muttered something about 'boys' again before she used her black magic to surround Starfire and herself. Starfire felt the darkness of her friend's magic lead her through the wall of the apartment. Then, she was released from the magic.

Cyborg was standing at the right, his cannon prepped for action, while Beast Boy was on the right in a fighting stance. In between them stood a tall girl with a half full bowl of popcorn. Starfire noticed that the rest of the popcorn was scattered across the floor surrounding her feet. Her friends must've frightened the girl. Starfire was further worried about the situation now. This girl seemed innocent enough. Why couldn't they have just knocked at the door?

"You peeps know there's a front door, right?" asked the girl dryly with a raised eyebrow, motioning a hand to the door. She was unaffected by the shattered glass that laid on both sides of her. She did, however, look a bit annoyed by them.

"Brilliant _guy instinct_ there, Cyborg," drawled Raven with a roll of her eyes. Cyborg winced for a moment, looking embarrassed. He powered down his cannon and turned his gaze to the girl.

Starfire looked at the girl as well. The girl's appearance was different than the average human. There was something powerful about it. Starfire remembered Jinx telling them that the girl was an albino; but having never seen one before, it was really quite a different experience.

An even hauntingly beautiful one.

The girl before them had wavy, snow white hair that draped below her shoulders – it was purest white beyond anything Starfire had ever seen before in all her travels. Even the girl's eyebrows, down to the very eyelashes that laced against her upper cheeks every now and then were of the same pure white shade. Her skin was also very pale; appearing as if snow itself dusted against her skin.

Finally, through the white eyelashes stood two violet red eyes. There was a deep beauty within them; however, somehow Starfire felt unsettled as she looked within them. There was a haunting dark light that each orb held; as if there was some deep darkness that could absorb any unsuspecting soul.

Starfire couldn't help the bad feeling that was rising in her chest.

"So, you peeps wanna tell me why you're smashing through my windows," asked the girl, plopping the half empty bowl of popcorn onto the table next to a glass of juice and putting her hands onto her hips.

"Um…"

Starfire looked over at Cyborg and felt a pang of pity for her friend. She could tell he was feeling a bit foolish now. Even Starfire had expected that anyone from the H.I.V.E. Academy would instantly be ready for a fight, perhaps even waiting for any moment when someone would burst into their home. But this girl had been completely shocked by their arrival. She was holding her ground, though. She wasn't afraid of intruders, but she also hadn't been waiting nor expecting for any.

Raven stepped forward.

"We're looking for some information and were hoping that you could supply us with it," said Raven.

The girl raised another eyebrow. "And yet, still can't see why you couldn't have knocked. It's not that hard."

"We are truly sorry," said Starfire, floating forward. "We were not… expecting someone like you."

"Who were you expecting, some criminal?" asked the girl, folding her arms with a high air. "The way the lot of ya busted in here, you'd think there'd been a mass murderer in here or something."

"Um… let's start over," said Cyborg, stepping forward. "Really sorry `bout the windows. I'm Cyborg, acting leader of the Teen Titans."

The girl tilted her head to the side.

"The who?"

"The Teen Titans," piped up Beast Boy, acting as if repeating the name would clear everything. "Haven't you heard of us?"

"Not really," said the girl with a simple shake of her head. Beast Boy's mouth dropped. Starfire wondered briefly if Beast Boy was about to say something foolish. But Cyborg seemed to see this first and he spoke before Beast Boy could pipe up.

"Um, that's Raven, that's Starfire, and the green one is Beast Boy," said Cyborg, pointing to each in turn. "We protect Jump City from criminals."

"Ooh, so you're a group of capes," drawled the girl in a derisive tone. "Fascinating. What's that got to do with me?"

"Uh…"

"May I ask you for your name?" asked Starfire, keeping her tone friendly. Trying to make friends with this girl was the best way. Perhaps then, the girl would be receptive in offering up information and maybe Starfire would have another friend. The girl shrugged lightly, turning to lean against the couch.

"Depends what you're gonna do with it."

"So that I may call you by your name, of course," cried Starfire, a bright smile spreading through her face. The girl appeared to be disarmed by Starfire's kindness; the darkened light within her eyes fading briefly. But then, the darkness slid back over them.

"The name's Sadie Roeslyn. I'm sixteen and I go to the local high school nearby. Anything else I can do ya for before I show you the door? Since you _obviously_ don't know where it is."

"What a glorious name, friend Sadie," cried Starfire, her smile nearly blinding. Sadie winced slightly, her expression darkening.

"I'm not your friend," said Sadie in an icy tone. "Don't think that you can blast in here, ask my name, and all of the sudden we're buddy buddy. Not happening, girl."

Starfire backed up slightly, biting her lip. This wasn't going well. The girl, Sadie, was obviously hostile to visitors; although, her friends did bust through the girl's windows like a rampaging herd of Glorgs. But there had been a brief moment where Starfire had seen Sadie soften by her smile, yet it was as if she was blocking herself from such things. Starfire had seen something like this once before when she had watched Cyborg talking with Robin. She wasn't sure what he had asked, but suddenly Robin's body language had completely closed up – perhaps as if something had been painful to remember.

What had Cyborg said to him that could bring such an expression from Robin?

"Like I said, we're _really_ sorry about the windows," said Cyborg, sounding extremely apologetic. "We're here on official Titans' business and were hoping that you could help us."

"How?"

"This is classified information," said Cyborg hesitantly, obviously a little nervous about sharing Robin's disappearance. "But our… friend was kidnapped by a criminal and we received some information that you might be able to tell us more about this criminal."

"I doubt that, but I'll humor you," said Sadie in a cynical tone. "Who's the criminal?"

"Slade."

The girl instantly stiffened. The hardened dark light in her eyes blazed for a brief moment before it clouded. It had happened so quickly that Starfire was almost unsure if it had actually occurred. Sadie turned her head to the side and scoffed.

"Slade? What kind of name is that? Sorry, but I've never heard of the criminal. You're wasting your time here."

"We have it on good authority that you were a student at the H.I.V.E. Academy," said Raven. "We know you've heard of Slade before."

"Look, I'm not a cop," said Sadie, the darkness in her eyes increasing, yet her expression was still impassive. "Why don't you go to them for help. It's their job to rescue people like that."

"But he's our friend!" protested Beast Boy. "It's _our_ job to go and save him."

"No, it's _not_ your job," said Sadie, her tone turning stern. "That's a job for the cops, the _police_ – people who were _trained_ to help people. The lot of you are just a bunch of kid vigilantes. You should take what you know to the police so they can do their job."

"Slade is different," said Starfire; her cheerfulness turning into a more serious air, one she rarely took on. Convincing this girl to help became a desperate cry in Starfire's heart. "Slade is no ordinary criminal. I do not believe he will easily be found by the police."

_And one that not even Robin's K'Norfka, the Batman, has been able to find_, thought Starfire.

She had been with Cyborg when he had attempted to call the Batman again; just to see if there were any news since they hadn't heard anything from the man. But instead, the Batman's servant had answered the call and, to Starfire's great unhappiness, had informed them that there wasn't any new development.

Cyborg had never looked so burdened at that moment. It was brief, but Starfire could still remember his hopeless words, "Not even Batman, the world's greatest detective, can find a trace of Robin or Slade. If he can't… just how are _we_ suppose to?"

It was more than a sobering thought – it was terrifying.

"Look, there's nothing I can do to help you," said Sadie, her unnatural eyes darkening further. Starfire felt a terrible depth within those eyes. Deep inside this girl was a burden of horror. What it was, Starfire was unsure. But it unsettled her. Never before had she seen such eyes.

Was this really hopeless? Was this girl really just yet another dead end in their desperate search to save their friend?

Those eyes were seeming to say, _'Give up. You'll never succeed. You don't need friends. There is no hope.'_

Starfire clamped her mouth over her trembling lips.

Hope was the only thing keeping Starfire going. It was the only thing that kept her sane. The despair, the pain was, at any crushing moment, ready to come bursting forth in a terrible flood. It was taking her entire heart of strength to hold it all back. But it was fragile; one crack would destroy her strength, drowning her in the pain and sorrow.

She needed something; some confirmation that everything would turn out all right.

That she would see Robin again.

"Please, you must know something that could be of assistance to us," said Starfire, trying to hold back the tears that wished to come forth. "Our friend might be suffering."

There was no sympathy in those darkened eyes.

"A lot of people are suffering in the world," said Sadie flatly. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

"Yes, there is!" protested Beast Boy. "We're heroes; we help people all the time! We've got powers and abilities."

Sadie scoffed scathingly.

"What, you think having powers makes you special? Do you think you're better than people because of them?" snarled Sadie. Her tone increased with every word she spoke. "Well, guess what? Having powers means squat. It doesn't make you better than people; it doesn't make you more powerful than others. No, it just makes you _different!_"

The glass of juice that was next to the bowl of popcorn shattered suddenly, making everyone jump in surprise. Sadie put her hands on her hips and turned her head to the side; letting out a huffy sigh. Starfire glanced over at Raven, wondering if she had lost control over her powers. But Raven was studying Sadie carefully.

"You have powers, don't you?" said Raven, her eyes narrowing. Sadie stiffened and set a fierce glare on her. Starfire could feel the anger, the hurt, and the bitterness flow from her soul. She wanted to hug the girl so much, offer some kind of comfort; but Starfire knew she would only be pushed away. There was too much fury inside this girl's heart.

"Yeah, I got powers," said Sadie; the bitterness dripping throughout her tone. Beast Boy's ears perked up.

"Really? Hey, maybe you could help us? You wanna be a Teen Titan? What's your power?" asked Beast boy in rapid fire.

"_No!_" cried Sadie, slicing a hand through air fiercely. "I don't want to be a hero and I don't want to be a villain. Just because you have powers doesn't mean you're better than others. I'm not above the law and I certainly don't have to go out and save everyone."

"But—"

"Look, I never asked to be different!" snapped Sadie over Beast Boy. "I never asked for my powers. I just wanted to be a normal girl with a normal family. But guess what? Life has this awesome way of throwing those kinds of desires right back in your face in the worse possible way. I think you've overstayed your welcome. _Get out_."

Sadie pointed to the door.

"There's the front door. Use it."

The group looked between themselves, each obviously unsure what to do. Starfire looked at the girl. Was this really their lead? Perhaps it had been a mistake. Perhaps what Jinx had saw was this burning anger for any person. Maybe this girl really didn't have anything to do with Slade.

Was their lead really a dead end? Was there no end to the suffering, the loneliness, the sleepless nights?

"We're sorry to have bothered you," said Raven, her voice trembling slightly. Cyborg looked completely crestfallen. Beast Boy's head was darting between Raven and Cyborg, as if asking if they really were just going to leave now. Cyborg temporarily placed a hand on Beast Boy's head and began to walk to the front door. Beast Boy's long ears drooped sadly and he followed after Cyborg.

Raven turned away as well and followed the two boys outside. Sadie marched past Starfire and grabbed the edge of the open door; sharply jabbing towards the outside.

"Well? You gonna leave or what?"

Starfire gave the girl a sorrowful look before she nodded. She slowly walked to the door. Her heart was crying – crying for this girl and crying for Robin. Was this really the end of their hope? What more could they do? Even with the strength of thousands of earth men, Starfire had no power to save her friend. She was terribly, utterly helpless and powerless; something so inconceivable to her kind, to her planet.

She turned at the threshold to look at the girl.

"Oh, and expect the bill for the broken windows," snapped Sadie. Starfire placed a hand over her heart and looked the girl directly in the eye. She had to say something; the girl looked so burdened by something.

"I hope that you will find the peace your heart seeks," said Starfire softly. Sadie's eyes widened briefly, before they darkened terribly.

"There's no peace for humans. Why should I expect anything different for me?"

The door slammed shut in their faces. Stillness wafted over the four Titans.

"That… went well," said Beast Boy, attempting to lighten the mood. But it was obvious that he wasn't feeling it. His pointed ears were drooping sadly.

Slowly, the group turned away from the door. They only walked a few steps before Cyborg leaned against a nearby wall and placed a hand over his face. Beast Boy dropped to the ground, flopping onto his back and staring up at the sky; his chest lifting slowly in his quiet breathing. Even Raven took a moment to lean against the wall, her eyes clouded over. Starfire looked over her friends, her lips trembling.

Total despair flowed through the entire group. It was so drowning, so overpowering that Starfire almost broke down and cried right there. Their lead… their _only_ clue ended up being nothing. Once more, they were right back where they had started; right back at that moment when Starfire found Robin's room empty of his presence. They were no closer to saving Robin from his fate. They were no closer to taking him away and holding him close; whispering comfort into his ears and telling him that everything was all right now – that he was safe.

When would fate allow them a chance, a spark of hope that told them their friend was safe, _alive?_

The depression that overflowed through the group made them ignore their surroundings. They didn't notice the cheerful chirruping of the birds, nor the gentle late afternoon breeze, nor the sunlight that shone through the chilled weather, nor the cars that sped by, nor the passersby of different types and colors, nor the young man with blond hair and deep green eyes who walked into the apartment building – nothing mattered but the deep compressing ache that threatened to burst each of their hearts underneath its terrible weight.

The world just continued along its own path; not noting the pain that four friends were experiencing; not noting that a child had been stolen; not noting the journey that each heart was being forced to go through.

Not noting the loneliness, the pain, the sorrow, the hopelessness, the anger, the fear, the worry, the terror, the rage, the change, the confusion, the comfort, the calm, the hope, the trust – never noting the play of emotions that flooded through each of their lives. The world didn't know. How many humans were there who lived on the earth that didn't know what was happening to them? How many were clueless to the terrible sorrow and pain; too wrapped up in their own lives?

But sometimes, there are other forces that are fully aware of what goes on within each and every heart.

Tears slipped down Starfire's face; the beads of her sorrows hot as they streamed down her cheeks. She clasped her hands to her mouth as a terrible sob broke from her lips. She could no longer hold it back. The flood of tears poured forth and she cried – cried and sobbed in anguish. She had tried; oh, how she had tried. She had tried to be strong of heart, tried to be hopeful. Was she Rutha; _weak?_ When all seemed lost, was her heart truly that weak that it couldn't hold onto hope?

A hand touched her shoulder. Starfire looked up to see Raven. Her friend's eyes were glistening and Starfire could feel that it was taking all the girl's self control not to cry with her. Slowly, Raven stepped closer to her and in a moment, Starfire found herself wrapped in the arms of her friend. Then, another pair of arms collided against her; the arms wrapping around her waist, with small whimpers coming from Beast Boy. Another stream of tears fell down her face as the warmth flowed through her. She looked up as she saw Cyborg step closer.

"It'll be okay, Star. We'll find him," said Cyborg, pain evident throughout his voice. Then, his arms wrapped around the three of them; completely surrounding them. Starfire closed her eyes, sending another wave of tears down her cheeks.

She didn't have to be strong alone. She had friends that would strengthen her, just as she had done for them. She wasn't alone.

But she couldn't hold back another wave of despair that flowed through her soul. What about Robin? He was all alone. He didn't have anyone to count on, to bring him comfort like this when he needed it. How could he survive without hope? How could _she_ survive without hope?

A breeze ruffled through her hair. Something seemed to brush against her face. Starfire opened her eyes. Her friends didn't seem to notice. Then, something soft, warm, and tender brushed against her face again. A lilting, trilling feminine voice seemed to enter her mind.

"_Wait a little longer, dear child. Never give up hope."_

Another breeze fluttered by and the sensation faded away. It had been so brief, so quick. Starfire glanced at her friends, wondering if they had noticed it. But they had not. Starfire was still enveloped by their warm arms. She glanced upward towards the sky. She wasn't sure what had just happened. She was sure that she had felt a presence and that a voice entered her mind – there was no doubt about it. She trusted her mind and the voice she had heard was not her own.

A wave of peace flowed through her; surprising her. There had been something beautifully reassuring about that voice. Somehow, she knew then: Robin was all right. It confused her for a moment. She had no way of knowing that. There had been no message, no contact from her friend; and yet, she just knew. She _knew_. Everything was going to be all right. There was still hope. Their friend was all right.

A smile graced her lips.

She untangled herself to wrap her arms around her friends, holding them tightly – but not too tight. She took a deep breath, letting all the bad emotions of her soul flow away with her exhale.

They would see Robin again – that much her heart was telling her.

And she believed it with all her soul.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Five: Baby Chick – Slade discovers a baby chick in the form of a bright eyed, raven headed Dick. Puppy eyes, clingy duckling, heart to heart; dear Slade's in a bit of trouble.

**Author's Notes:** So, I always had trouble trying to decide whose POV should play out the chapter and at first it had been Cyborg's; but as I received reviews and comments about certain things, I realized that we needed Starfire's POV again after so long. And I must say that it played out quite good in my eyes. I'm very pleased with the effect.

Next chapter = a whole lotta fun. Yup yup.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	35. Baby Chick

**Author's Note:** *giggles* Oh, so many questions and assumptions. Hehehe… You're all wonderful. Seriously. I've told you that before, right? Well, I tend to repeat myself a lot. XD Thanks a bunch for all the reviews! ^-^

I cannot believe we've reached this chapter. It's like a dream. This whole process of this story has been a dream to me at times. Just. Wow. This is one of those chapters that was long written before we even got to chapter 15 or so. I've been dying for this chapter. I love it on so many counts. *giggles*

July is gonna speed by, I have no doubt. I cannot believe that I thought of this story in April and already have come this far. It's stunning, no doubt. I'm boggled by it all. Can't believe it. *floored*

Haha, a pet, hm? I wonder who would last longer, Slade or the pet? XD Although, I have this feeling that Wintergreen isn't a pet person…

Oh my, that'd be funny. *thinks up a oneshot*

Ah, and those of you who are waiting on the next chapter of _Warped Identity_, it is being worked on and depending how much work I can get done on it today, it should be posted tomorrow or Thursday. ^^

And yes! Happy Independence Day! Be safe and have lots and lot of fun! ^-^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

**Baby Chick**

**February 8th, 2009. Sunday, 11:07 am.**

"Dick, don't you have anything to do?"

"Not really."

"It's your day off. You don't want to waste it. Surely you have something better to do than stick around me."

"Nope, not really, sir."

Slade sighed deeply, running a hand over the fur on his chin in light frustration. The boy was being exceptionally… exceptionally _something_ today! Slade couldn't quite put his finger on it. But the child would just _not_ leave him alone for a quiet moment. The boy followed him _everywhere_. It was the oddest thing that Slade had ever encountered with this boy.

The boy had actually followed him, almost _cheerfully_, into his bedroom even. At that very moment, Dick was sitting in the extra computer chair, twirling around in it occasionally. He looked content, an almost peaceful look on his face; but the constant twirling in that blasted chair was beginning to grate on Slade's nerves. Couldn't the boy find something _constructive_ to do with his time?

"Dick, are you going to twirl around in that chair all day?" asked Slade, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. The boy stopped suddenly, looking contrite and almost bashful.

"Sorry, is it bothering you?"

"Just a bit," admitted Slade with a sigh; giving him a nod. Dick grinned sheepishly; dropping his hands into his lap while straightening in the chair. The irritating spinning ceased.

"Sorry, sir. I'll stop."

"It would be appreciated," commented Slade dryly, turning back to his work. With a settling sigh, he studied the complex coding that he was working on – a simple job that a client wanted done. Merely test the security of their mainframe computer. Easy job; could be done in his sleep.

But somehow, Slade was finding that he just couldn't concentrate. _Why?_ The boy was drumming his fingers in his lap. It wasn't loud, but it seemed as if _everything_ was irritating Slade.

"Dick, why don't you go do something?" suggested Slade, hoping the boy would finally take the hint and leave. He just needed an hour or so _alone_; hence the _day off_.

"No, I'm good."

"What if that was an order?" said Slade, tilting his head to the side slightly – just enough to look over at the boy.

"Do I have to?" asked Dick with a small pout, his shoulders hunching slightly as he stared at Slade.

Good grief, why wouldn't the boy just leave him in peace already? It was as if Dick didn't want to leave. Such strange behavior indeed. What on earth was going on with this boy?

The pout grew bigger.

Would wonders never cease?

"Fine," said Slade with an annoyed sigh. He turned back to his work, staring at the computer screen and willing himself to concentrate.

However, two minutes into it and Slade knew there was no way on the planet he could get anything done with the boy in the room like this. Perhaps if the boy had been doing something _useful_, then maybe he wouldn't have such a problem with him. But the boy just insisted on staying with him, as if the act of _being together_ was pleasing to him or something.

Slade just couldn't understand the boy's behavior. Why on earth was he acting so… so… Seriously, was the boy really acting _clingy?_ That was ridiculous. But as Slade glanced at the boy, dawning realization flowed over him. Truly, the boy was acting clingy. But why?

Slade stopped trying to concentrate on his work and let his thoughts go over the past week. After that explosive-in-a-robot-to-test-Slade's-promise nonsense the boy pulled, the week had been like no other. Dick was pleasant almost all the time. Not once had Slade felt the need to scold him or reprimand him for anything. Boy had been the poster child for perfect behavior.

He always seemed eager to please. Now that Slade thought about it more, Dick always seemed to brighten up whenever he entered the room – even to the point of following him around at times. But since Slade was always teaching him and being together constantly was the norm, he hadn't given it a second thought.

But now with giving the boy a day off, Dick seemed to much prefer to spend it in Slade's presence. Realizing that made all the previous week's behavior come into a new light.

Just what on _earth_ was going on with this boy?

Slade stood up. He needed to talk to Wintergreen. As it seemed as if the old man knew _everything_ when it came to these things, it was time for another chat. Slade chuckled to himself. He was always going to the old man for advice with children, wasn't he? He had even done that when Grant, Joey, and Rose were growing up.

With a few well entered keys, Slade locked down his computer. No need to give the boy temptation, after all. He stood up and, in a few strides, was at the door of his bedroom. Dick was instantly on his feet and by Slade's side at such a speed that would've put that Kid Flash brat to shame.

"Where're you going?" asked Dick with a light smile and a tilt of his head.

"I need to have a word with Will," said Slade, trying with every fiber of his being not to snap at the boy. After all, the boy wasn't doing anything wrong, per se.

"I'll come with you," offered Dick.

"No, you will not," said Slade, emphasizing each word carefully. Persistent little brat!

"But—"

"This isn't up for discussion," said Slade, looking down on the boy with a stern eye. "I need a word _alone_ with Will." The boy's shoulders slumped down in a small pout. The boy glanced up at him with soft, baby blue eyes. Slade was startled by the pleading look in his bright eyes.

Blast that boy. He was actually trying to sway him with _puppy eyes!_ The _nerve_ of the boy!

"I'll be back in a little bit," said Slade, trying to offer some reassurance; feeling completely unnerved by those eyes. Slade was definitely becoming unsettled by the boy's reactions. This was just not normal behavior for Dick. "You may remain in my room, but you better stay out of mischief or so help me—"

"No, sir. I mean; yes, sir," said Dick quickly, his cheeks reddening slightly. "There won't be any need for that. I'll be good."

"Mmm…"

"Honestly!"

"All right, then," said Slade with a smirk. He gave the boy a pat on the arm before turning away and leaving him behind. Even after all this time, Slade still found it highly interesting that threat of getting his backside spanked – or walloped, as the boy preferred to call it – was far more effective than getting his arm broken.

Truly interesting.

Slade walked down the hallway toward Wintergreen's room. He knocked lightly once he reached it.

"Will, I need a word."

"Come in," came Wintergreen's voice. Slade walked inside the old man's room; shutting the door behind him in case the boy got it into his head to follow him. Wintergreen was sitting on a couch at the end of the room; his legs crossed as he read a book. The old man looked up and set his book aside.

"What is it, Slade? You look a bit harried," said Wintergreen, sounding a bit concerned.

"It's Dick."

"What's the child done now?"

"He keeps following me around all day long," said Slade, thoroughly exasperated; running a hand through his hair. "I gave him the day off so I could get some work done, but I can't with him constantly underfoot. It's beginning to drive me insane, but I don't want to scare the boy. Not after what happened last week."

Wintergreen broke out into deep chuckles.

"I know," said Wintergreen, his tone overflowing with amusement. "He's been quite adorable, actually."

"_Adorable?_" cried Slade incredulously. "Well, of course. From a distance it might very well be _adorable_, but up close it's just plain annoying."

Wintergreen let out a light chuckle, his entire face lit up with the mirth.

Oh, yeah. The old man can laugh it up. The boy wasn't following _him_ around all day long. What would the old man think if Slade attached the boy to _his_ hip? Poetic justice right there.

"He's like a baby chick following you around," said Wintergreen through many, _many_ chuckles. He continued to laugh afterward, shaking his head as he did so. Slade was appalled.

"_A baby chick?_" cried Slade, completely aghast. "Good grief, Will. Don't even joke like that. What on earth could've caused this with him? Why would the boy follow me around like this? I mean…" Slade trailed off, considering it for a moment before continuing. "I suppose this is a good thing. I had hoped the boy would get close, but I never imagined I couldn't shake him off. I've never seen a child so clingy before. None of my children were like this."

"That's because you had a somewhat stable home," suggested Wintergreen warmly, once his chuckling had subsided. "You were a strong influence in their lives, as was Adeline. You did go off for long periods of time because of your work, but you were still, nonetheless, a steady influence. Richard hasn't had something like that in years. He's beginning to associate you with stability. He tested you because he was afraid to trust that you would keep your word. But when you did, you won his complete trust. You did it, Slade. The child completely trusts you."

Slade stood still; absorbing Wintergreen's words.

He had the boy's complete trust. Dick fully trusted him. That was a big step – a _huge_ step. If the boy completely trusted him, then the possibilities were endless. He would be more receptive to learning new things. Slade could mold him into something truly amazing now.

The utter thrill and excitement overflowed in Slade's chest. The boy _trusted_ him. _Completely_. Well, wasn't that something? Robin; the Boy Wonder; protégé of Batman – Dick Grayson _trusted_ the mercenary, Slade; Deathstroke the Terminator. Now that was quite the accomplishment. Slade couldn't help but feel a glow of pride for the two of them.

He couldn't have imagined reaching such a point when he first brought Dick here. Of course, he had hoped that the boy would slowly learn to trust him, but he had never counted on ever reaching such a point where the boy was literally attached to him in pure contentment.

The possibilities were endless now.

"I must advise and warn you, though, Slade," began Wintergreen. Slade glanced over at the old man to see a sad, yet earnest light in his aged eyes. "He is sensitive. He's like Joseph in that manner, unlike Grant. You have to become even softer with him."

Slade couldn't hold back the snort.

"Softer? _Softer?_ Good grief, Will. Surely you haven't forgotten who you're talking to?"

"Of course I haven't," said Wintergreen with a knowing smile. "But it's quite apparent that the boy has had issues with his home life. His stable home of seven years was brutally taken away from him. Then, he spent five years with a man who doesn't know how and is afraid to become attached to another person. Then, at the tender age of twelve, he leaves to go out on his own. He's alone for a whole year before he finds those four friends of his. Think about it, Slade: he hasn't had a stable adult in his life for over seven years. Those are tender years in a child."

_A stable adult?_

Slade nearly laughed at that. Since when was he the 'stable adult' in Dick's life?

But as Slade considered it, he was far more aware that it had become true. Slade had become a stable influence in Dick's life – obviously, since Slade was designing everything; educating the boy daily for his role and destiny. Slade just never thought of it like that.

But Slade hadn't ever considered himself what one would call a man of stability. Such a thing seemed foreign to him. Was he truly that way that the boy would grow to the point of attaching himself at Slade's side like this? Slade just couldn't imagine Dick doing this with that _bat_. That creature probably would melt the boy in a glare.

So, what was the difference here?

"How do you know all this?" asked Slade with a shake of his head. Wintergreen gave him a knowing smile.

"Oh, I hear things," said Wintergreen, still smiling.

"Mmm, I wonder."

"And you will for quite a long while. But seriously, Slade. Please consider my words. Be more… affectionate."

"_Affectionate?_ Oh, Will…" Slade shook his head firmly. "There's just no way I can do that. Besides, what would I do? _Hug_ him? The boy would probably run away screaming." Slade had to smirk at that thought. That would be funny to see.

Quite funny.

Might even be worth it to try just for the reaction – too bad it wasn't Slade's style.

"But you've already been doing it, quite a bit, actually – minus the hug," said Wintergreen with a slight smile, almost as if he knew exactly what Slade was thinking. "Pats on the arm or on the back; or when you helped him with his burns. I must say you were quite exceptional when he was sick. Just do a little more and perhaps more often, too. I told you he was an affection starved child – now's the perfect time to bond with him even more."

Slade let out a low, tired growl. With his hands on his hips, he stared at the ceiling in consternation. Be more affectionate? What next? Tucking him into bed at night and reading him a blasted bedtime story? Another growl left his mouth.

"My word, Slade. Don't strain yourself."

Slade glared at the old man.

"_Very_ amusing, Will."

"Honestly, Slade. It's not that hard," said Wintergreen with a sardonic smile. "You were a very good father to your children if it weren't for the tragedy that befell your family."

"I am not his father," said Slade, emphasizing each word softly. For some reason, there was an irritating stirring inside Slade's chest, almost as if he were annoyed with that fact – but that was ridiculous.

"But aren't you trying to be?"

Slade sucked in his breath; stunned by the direct question. He could only stare at Wintergreen in shock; his mouth open slightly. Finally, he blinked; returning to his senses. Slade couldn't answer it – he glanced away uneasily.

Was that what he was trying to do?

No.

_No_, all he wanted was a competent apprentice; a perfect partner he could rely on in the toughest and most dangerous of times. He wanted an apprentice; he was looking for an heir to pass on his wisdom and power.

He was _not_ looking for a 'son' – he was _not_.

"Why not try doing something together that the child might like to do?" suggested Wintergreen.

"What, another _play day?_" drawled Slade, thankful for the change in topic; completely unsettled by the previous statement. Wintergreen rolled his eyes in a sigh.

"Well, something that he'd like, anyways," said Wintergreen with a shrug. The old man picked up his book; opening it back up to his reading page. "Doesn't have to be board games, you know."

Slade sighed and shook his head. It would appear that Wintergreen had a point – how the old man always did, Slade would probably never know. Wintergreen turned a page in his book. Well, it seemed as if the old man was tapped out of good advice now. Slade let out a huff; hating the advice, but knowing it was still extremely useful. He spun around irritably.

"Fine."

Slade marched out of Wintergreen's room. The old man's soft, encouraging voice was the last thing he heard before shutting the door behind himself.

"Good luck."

As Slade stood outside his door for a few moments, he couldn't stop wondering. He really wasn't sure how to go about this. If what Wintergreen had said was true, would Dick truly be happy with Slade if he became a little warmer with him? Slade always noticed that the boy seemed to calm down with a simple touch, whether it be a clasp on the shoulder or a light pat on the back.

He _always_ calmed down from the touch.

There wasn't ever an exception. Was Dick really such the affectionate starved child that he would accept it from Slade, the man who was, in effect, his captor?

As Slade thought of all the past times he dealt with the boy, it was growing ever apparent that this was the very case. Dick truly was affectionate starved. Slade could see it in his eyes and, as time moved on, the boy seemed to crave it more and more. He seemed to drink it up like a sponge.

But could Slade really offer more?

With another exasperated, tired sigh, Slade opened the door to his room and entered. But he stopped suddenly; shocked completely.

Dick was lying on his stomach – _on Slade's bed_. His legs were lifted in the air, kicking lightly as he laid there with a pillow curled beneath his chest; his arms wrapped around it.

Well, this was fascinating.

Slade had let the boy fall asleep in his bed that second night he had a terrible nightmare. The boy had seemed comforted just by being near him that night. He wouldn't move at first until Slade gently put him to bed.

But this…

Slade put a hand to his head. He could've sworn the room spun once in his pure confusion over the boy's actions. This was too much now. The boy seemed so… comfortable. This was getting so strange and yet, so interesting; thoroughly fascinating.

"Dick, what are you doing?" asked Slade in sly whisper; once he managed to get control over himself. Dick jolted suddenly and rolled over; crossing his legs beneath himself as he sat up. He looked a bit nervous; but, overall, he didn't seem frightened.

"Just… hanging out," said Dick, looking meekly up at Slade with bright eyes. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"And did you get permission to use my bed as a 'hangout' area?"

Dick suddenly looked extremely sheepish.

"Um… no?"

"Mmm…" smirked Slade, but he didn't bother with it anymore. Just watching the boy squirm under his eye was somewhat hilarious. Never got old, that was for sure. Slade walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Dick seemed to straighten suddenly, looking a bit apprehensive.

Oh, dear; this was going to be harder than Slade had thought.

"Is there anything… you'd like to do… together?" asked Slade, his voice slow and hesitant. Dick's bright eyes widened for a moment before his face broke out into a light smile; cautious, yet filled eager happiness.

"Um, like what?" asked Dick.

"Anything… at all," said Slade; the words coming extremely hard for him. Where was Wintergreen when you needed him?

"Well, um… I dunno, what did you have in mind?"

Of all the days not to be assertive, why did it have to be today? Why did the boy have to be meek over this? Why couldn't he just say exactly what he'd like to do? It was obvious he didn't want to be alone. So, wasn't there _something_ he wanted to do?

"I don't have anything in mind," said Slade. "I thought I would give you the choice."

"Oh…" started Dick uncertainly. There was a moment while he thought; those blue eyes illuminated with light as they glanced upward towards the ceiling. Then, they fell back onto Slade.

"Well, what would you do with your boys?"

Oh, good grief.

The boy _would_ ask that, now wouldn't he? The boy _had_ to bring up the past. Slade held back a deep sigh. This was far harder than he thought – definitely.

"Grant and I would go hunting."

"Oh…" said Dick, sounding disappointed. "What… What about Joey?"

"He was very different," admitted Slade. "You couldn't pay him to hold a gun. He preferred to chatter – quite a bit. I don't really recall doing much with him besides listening to him."

"That was kind of nice of you," said Dick with a soft smile. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"We never did anything, though."

"But you did," insisted Dick in a quiet tone. "You _listened_. I bet that was the best thing ever for him."

Slade watched the boy carefully. Those soft blue eyes were filled with a delicate compassion. There was no doubt about it – Slade was somewhat touched by the way Dick had said that. He'd never thought that he had been able to connect well with Joey. Rose had been a bit too young to truly connect on an emotional level, at least for Slade; and especially since she had been a girl.

Well, big surprise: Wintergreen was right – Dick was very sensitive.

"I don't suppose you'd want to go hunting," said Slade lightly. Dick's shy, slow shake of his head was his answer. "Mmm, didn't think so. Then, what would you like to do?"

Dick looked a little hesitant and uncertain. His legs tensed and released, making him bounce slightly as he did so. He then bit his lip and with those soft blue eyes, he glanced back up at Slade.

"Um… maybe a little Uno?" asked Dick, his expression complete with meekness. Slade fought to close his eye in exasperation. The boy _would_ pick that, wouldn't he?

Oh, bother.

"All right, go get them," said Slade; wondering lightly if he just signed for his future doom. The boy's face lit up blindingly and he darted off the bed. He was gone and back in moments with the box of Uno cards in his hands. With a slight bounce in his step, he scrambled onto the bed and crossed his legs again as he began to pull out the cards.

Unable to bite back the sigh, Slade did the same; pulling himself onto the bed so that he sat in the center in front of the boy. Soon the game was set up and the two of them were once again playing cards.

It was then during the numerous plays that they went through, that the boy opened up and began to happily chatter about anything that came to his mind. Much of his chatter was filled with things about his friends and Titans Tower. Slade merely listened, occasionally interjecting a wry comment or two.

It was such a strange feeling.

It reminded Slade all too much of the past – the very past that he hated remembering at times. And yet, there was something special about the boy in front of him and with that, somehow brought unbidden thoughts to Slade's mind.

No matter how much Dick thought that Slade was all knowing, he wasn't. Slade wasn't all knowing now and hadn't been in the past – no matter how much he wished it to be. It was for that very truth that Grant had lost his life; that Rose had lost her life; that Joey had lost his beautiful voice.

There had been far too many things that he hadn't known.

Slade hadn't known his son had donned a secret mercenary identity beneath his nose. He hadn't known that his son had got his very first contract. He hadn't known that the contract would just be a fake. Slade also hadn't known that his son would be killed by one of his vengeful enemies. Slade had no idea and no way of knowing the tragedy that would befall his son.

He would also have no idea that the same enemy would set a massive explosive inside his daughter's grade school. There would be nothing left to find of her. He would have no idea that his second son would be kidnapped in the effort to lure him out.

No matter how much Slade didn't want to admit it, he had been completely helpless in protecting his own family – merely because he hadn't known. Being enhanced had meant nothing. He couldn't even protect his _own_ family; failing in the one thing that had been the most important in his life.

Slade could still remember the moment he told Addie about Grant's death. After just losing Rose and then the news about Grant, she had broken down into deep sobbing, heart wrenching cries. The sounds of her tears had been enough to tear out Slade's own heart, who had been trying to avoid doing the same himself with every ounce of his control. But when he had told her of Joey's kidnapping, she had broken out into a full blown panic attack.

The mere thought of losing her last child had been far too overwhelming for the poor mother. It was then Slade had told her that they would go rescue Joey. After all, the one the kidnappers really wanted was Slade.

Slade almost smirked with morbid amusement. He had never seen Addie look so furious with him in his entire life. Such a turnabout she went through. And when he told her of his current profession… Well, she nearly killed him right then and there.

The moment he faced the kidnappers, he had been ready to take them down with his bare hands – tear them apart limb from limb. They demanded information from him and in his pride, he declined them. He had been confident, _too_ confident. And because of it, his son paid a terrible price for it. One slash across the boy's throat had destroyed his vocal cords – thus, he lost his beautiful voice.

But Slade paid his dues – once Joey's safety had been ensured, Slade tore through the kidnappers like they were bugs to be squashed underfoot. He easily found out the one who had targeted him and the enemy hadn't lived passed a week.

But, of course, his enemy's death did not bring back his dear children nor did it restore his other son's voice.

Nor did it bring back his Addie, who shot his eye out in her grief and rage; taking their last living child away from him and forbidding him from ever seeing them again.

The choices Slade had made had, in essence, ripped through his family with a vengeance. It was his biggest regret; his biggest failure; his biggest sorrow.

Slade looked up at the boy in front of him. He was chattering about some adventure he and his friends had once had. It was the first time in the boy's stay with him where he was totally animated about something. The boy was completely _happy_. That was the only word for it.

Slade took a deep breath.

Would some future choice that Slade would make destroy the boy in front of him? The sign of innocence was still apparent in the young boy's eyes. Yes, he had faced death many times – including watching his parents fall to their deaths. But he was still filled with an endless innocence.

The boy had qualities that all three of Slade's children had. He was similar to Grant, not just in appearance, but in determination and excitement when it came to challenges. He was an excellent leader and dealt with people very well. He was similar to Joey with his timid nature. He was sensitive and kind as well; willing to be helpful when he felt safe. Finally, he was similar to Rose with his intense intelligence and cheerfulness; along with the emphatic nature of wanting to help others.

What was the true reason Slade had chosen Dick – he himself didn't fully know. Perhaps it had been because the boy was a natural in raw skills. Or perhaps it had been because the boy was highly intelligent and just the right age to train.

Or was it truly because he reminded Slade of his lost children?

"Sir?"

Slade blinked, slightly surprised by the tentative voice that broke through his thoughts. He looked directly into the boy's sparkling blue eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are… Are you all right, sir?" asked Dick, watching him carefully. Concern was flashing through those eyes.

"Yes, why?"

"It's just… You kinda looked a bit sad or something," said Dick, appearing hesitant. "What were you thinking about?"

Was the boy reading him that well now?

Those eyes were looking with soft earnest at him and Slade found that he couldn't deny the boy a straight answer.

"I was thinking about some things of the past," said Slade.

"Oh."

Dick ducked his head down slightly. His eyes darted to the side as he bit his bottom lip for a moment. Then, bright blue eyes looked back at Slade.

"Um… Y–you know, my mother used to say that the past holds precious treasures," started Dick. He looked extremely nervous as he spoke, as if he were frightened to even share the information. Slade stopped and watched him in silence, allowing the boy to speak. If the boy had the rare courage to say something about his deceased mother, Slade wasn't about to stop him.

"She said that every memory of the past is precious, even the bad ones. She actually said especially the bad ones, because those are the ones that make us stronger."

Dick began to wrap his arms around his chest; rubbing his upper arm with a hand. His chest settled into a low sigh as a longing entered his eyes.

"For a long time after… after she died," whispered Dick in a soft murmur, "I didn't believe her. In fact, it was one of the only things I hated hearing in my memories when I thought of her. I could never accept that the memory of her falling to her death would ever be a precious treasure in my memory."

Slade definitely agreed with the boy on that one. The memories of his past family were ones he wanted to bury deep within his subconscious. Watching his mother fall before his eyes had to be a horrific memory. Where was the treasure there?

Then, the boy turned his face back to him and Slade was startled by the strength in those deep blue eyes.

"But I understand what she was saying," said Dick, the strength overpowering in his eyes. His voice continued strongly. "Even though I'll never consider her death a precious memory, I can consider it something that has made me stronger. Of course, if I had the choice, I'd always choose them. I miss them _so _much. But since I don't have a choice, I can't deny the strength that I've gained through such a hardship as being orphaned at seven years old."

Those blue eyes began to glisten with tears before the boy turned his face aside. He stared at the bedspread for a long moment; then, his eyes blinked and a trail of tears spilled over. He quickly wiped them away roughly with the palm of his hand. There was a slight sniffle as he continued to stare at the bedspread, the game forgotten in front.

Slade fought back a soft smile. It was interesting how far they had come with each other. Here the boy talked about something sacred and painful to his heart openly to his once considered enemy. The boy was even shredding a few well deserved tears over it. All willingly in front of the one he had once hated.

The boy was such a strange one. But he was a treasure beyond anything – there was no doubt about that in Slade's mind.

A treasure whose worth none could compare.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Six: A Pellet of Peas – What does one do when a child refuses to eat his vegetables? Well, one thing's for sure – beware of wet projectiles.

**Author's Notes:** Hahaha, we've needed some fun chapters after all the _drama_. Aheh. ^^ And of course, before more hits the fan. XD

Next chapter = a whole lotta fun times two. Yup yup.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	36. A Pellet of Peas

**Author's Note: **Thank you guys so much for the reviews! ^^ I love `em all! Hehe, glad everyone had fun with the last chapter.

**Quote:** _"I luv how you make them sound British!"_

_I do?!_ O.O Woooow, seriously? LOL, that's completely unintentional – especially considering I definitely ain't British. XD How'd that happen…

Ah well.

You know, you're right; I do agree that the TT Slade and Robin would never get this far, but I did make FB Slade slightly different than him. ^^ For the plot that I have, the blackmailing nanobots just would not have worked. And to be honest, you never know. TT Slade and Robin did work together in the 4th season. Hearts can change when there's understanding; when there's growth; and when there's just a little bit of kindness. ^.^ In fact, the impossible can happen.

And to **Random Reader** who reviewed 5 times in a row – I must say I was _not_ annoyed at all, I was actually impressed. I was like, "How on earth did that girl (or boy, not fully sure) manage to say the same thing five times without much changes?" LOL if that would've happened to me, I swear it'd sound different every time because I'd forget. LOL!

Once upon a time, there was this picture. Said picture featured Slade and Robin. In this picture, Slade was attempting to feed a little toddler Robin in a highchair some peas, who in turn, adorably refused to do so.

When I saw that picture, I knew then that picture had to be the cutest thing I've ever seen and thus, inspired this fun chapter. Hehehe…

Good times.

On with the story!

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

**A Pellet of Peas**

**February 12th, 2009. Thursday, 6:13 pm.**

"Dick! For the last time, _dinner!_" shouted Slade down the hallway.

"_Coming!_"

Slade sighed, shaking his head as he walked back to his seat; sitting down into it. That was the sixth time he had called Dick to dinner tonight. What on earth was taking that boy so long? Normally, he obeyed on the first request – not to mention he wasn't ever late for dinner.

But the boy had been exceptionally good – unnaturally even in Slade's eyes. He still stuck to Slade's side like glue, though, most of the time. Moments like now were rare and far between; giving Slade that tiny second of reprieve from the boy. But he was starting to get used to it. If it made the boy happy, then so be it – there wasn't anything Slade was going to do to stop it.

Or could do…

But the day that boy came into his room in the middle of the during a thunderstorm with a pillow in his arms was the day Slade drew the line. No way. Nightmares while he was still working were one thing, but thunderstorms with a pillow were a whole other duck.

Although, Slade doubted that would happen. He had the entire haunt soundproof. Lucky for him.

But Slade was still getting used to this behavior. Dick seemed so different than before. It was as if something settled perfectly into his heart. Was it truly because he trusted Slade? Was it simply the trust that anchored the boy like this? This trust made him so happy, so content, so pleasant, so obedient?

Or was it more?

Slade grabbed one of the papers that Wintergreen set out for him and began to read, but not really paying attention to the words on the page; his mind too full of his mulling thoughts. It was a few swift moments later that he heard eager footsteps and Dick's cheerful voice.

"Slade, listen to this," said Dick excitedly, running right up to him and holding up his music device. Slade raised an eyebrow and looked up from the paper he had been perusing. Was this what had taken the boy so long? A music device?

"What is it?"

"Come on, just listen," said Dick in a coaxing manner, placing white earphones near Slade's ears. Slade sighed, unable to deny that eager face. He took the pair from the boy's hands and placed them to his ears. Only one word could describe what Slade heard through those earphones: noise. Noise accompanied to a tune.

"What is that nonsense?" demanded Slade. Dick nearly giggled at Slade reaction.

"It's a _song_, Slade," said Dick, his eyes dancing mischievously. "Didn't they have them when _you_ were young?"

"They did, but it wasn't racket," said Slade with a shake of his head. He pulled the earphones away and handed them back to the boy. "What is that stuff?"

"It's a song in Japanese."

"You can understand that nonsense?"

"I ca—wait… Don't you know?" asked Dick, stopping midway; those crystal blue eyes blinking.

"Know what?"

"You don't know, do you?" said Dick, looking positively excited. A wry, triumphant smile spread throughout his face. Slade raised an eyebrow at this reaction. "Heh, you don't know how many languages I can speak, now do you?"

"I have some awareness that you can speak a few," said Slade with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You were, after all, the ward of a wealthy man who could afford the best of tutors and learning available to him. It's why I haven't pursued that area of your education."

Dick let out a small laugh with his mouth raised in a heavy smirk.

"There's something about me you don't know," said Dick, his grin overwhelming. He looked completely smug at the thought that Slade didn't know this type of information. Slade narrowed his eye at the boy.

"I can always find out."

"But you didn't _know_," said Dick, looking positively gleeful over this piece of news. "Weren't you supposed to know _everything?_"

"You'll tell me if I order you to," said Slade, setting his gaze to the boy as if daring him to challenge that.

"No, I won't," said Dick impishly, his grin still spread throughout his face. Slade gave him a hard look and the boy had the good conscious to squirm a bit underneath it. Slade slowly stood up and Dick took a few steps back. He looked a bit nervous now, but that impish grin was still prevalent in his features.

"Is that so?" asked Slade with a tilt of his head. "I have my way of getting you to talk. You _do_ remember what that is, don't you?"

"You wouldn't…"

"No?" said Slade with a raised eyebrow, his tone coy. "If I order you to tell me and you say no, that's disobedience. You know full well how I deal with that."

Dick squirmed again and ducked his head. He fidgeted with the edges of his shirt before he finally spoke up.

"You could just ask… you know," murmured Dick. Slade slowly sat back down; a little stunned by the way the boy spoke. _Could just ask?_ Would he really offer the information without a command? Oh, _please_. This had to be a trick of the boy. He'd shove it back into Slade's face – that much Slade was sure of.

But it couldn't hurt to humor the boy. At any rate, the boy would regret denying him the information.

"How many languages can you speak, Dick?" asked Slade finally, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Dick's face brightened into a smile and he lifted his head proudly.

"I'm fluent in English, Spanish, French, Japanese, Chinese, Mandarin, Cantonese, German, Russian, Swahili, _and_ I can understand a bit of Tamaran, too," said Dick with a broad smile; rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands behind his back. The boy looked proud as a peacock.

Slade was impressed. Being fluent in ten languages was very remarkable for a fourteen year old boy – actually mind boggling – not to mention knowing some of an alien language. Slade let a smile lift his face in pleasure. Yes, the boy was beyond intelligent.

"Very good, Dick. That's quite impressive," praised Slade with a smile. Dick completely beamed at him in response. That was exactly it – the boy completely lit up at the small praise. He rocked back and forth happily as he continued to smile gleefully.

"Thanks," grinned Dick.

"You are a very accomplished young man," said Slade. The boy glowed even more at this. Then, a thought crossed Slade's mind and he raised his eyebrow.

"Aren't you missing one?"

"One what?"

"Can't you speak Romani as well?" asked Slade. "Wasn't your mother a Romani woman?"

Dick stiffened. Slade noticed an instant reaction at the mention of his mother's parentage. The happy light that had glowed from Dick vanished immediately. The boy's eyes clouded over and he lowered his head slightly. Slade was surprised by the reaction. He certainly couldn't believe that mentioning his mother had brought this on.

So, what was it?

"Dick, what's the matter?" asked Slade.

"It's nothing."

"Am I wrong here? You don't know Romani?"

"I knew it," murmured Dick, his head still ducked down.

"Knew it? Are you suggesting that you forgot the language?" asked Slade.

The cloud in the boy's eyes grew more. Slade frowned slightly. He just didn't like that light in the boy's eyes. Dick being so happy was much better. It seemed as if Dick had the power to control the very feelings in the air around him. If he was sad, the entire haunt felt sad; if he was happy, the entire haunt felt happy.

How strange. When did this happen?

"It…" There was a contracting swallow. "It died with her. I can't… find myself ever wanting to speak the language."

There was another pause.

"_It's too painful_," whispered Dick, averting his eyes to the ground.

Slade wasn't sure what to say to that at first. Of course his mother's native language would be painful. Why hadn't Slade thought of that before he asked? Foolish. There were many things that Slade avoided because of what they reminded him – things of the past.

But that boy was standing there, the clear joy that had been all too prevalent on his face completely vanished away; only to be filled with pain from the past – somehow, Slade hated seeing the contrast.

"There will always be things that will bring you pain," said Slade in a soft undertone. Dick looked up at Slade and he was suddenly unnerved, stopping his thoughts, by the look in the boy's eyes – one of expectation, one of trust, one of faith.

As if the boy completely relied on the words that Slade was about to say; expecting Slade to speak truth that would help him and anchor him to reality. Those eyes were shining with such trust it completely shocked Slade. It was a look that he had never seen in Dick's eyes, but had seen it before many times throughout his life.

But it had come from three children that bore his name.

It was the look that a child gave to an adult when they sought for answers that they needed. It was the look of hope, of desire, of faith, of trust.

Slade never thought he'd ever see such a look again.

"But you can't bury your past like that," continued Slade, trying to formulate his thoughts. "Knowing the language of Romani; _being_ Romani is a part of you. You shouldn't throw it away."

There was a responding acceptance in the boy's eyes, as if soaking in Slade's counsel. His eyes glimmered, though; and he swallowed once as a pained look overflowed.

"So, you should acknowledge your abilities," said Slade, trying to give the boy some strength from his gaze. "You can speak not ten languages, but eleven."

The boy bit his lower lip.

"Wouldn't your mother like that?"

Ah, those bright eyes couldn't have gone wider. Then, a soft light entered them. Dick's face begin to lighten up as he gave Slade a smile. He nodded softly before glancing down again.

"You are quite the accomplished young man," continued Slade, repeating the praise. Dick glanced up, those eyes wide again. "You speak far more languages than most college professors do, you've graduated high school, you are an expert in most martial arts and are improving daily in that, you excel in every single learning that I place before you – all this and you're not yet fifteen."

Dick's eyes were never wider at that point.

"You are a genius and that's why I choose you," said Slade with a heavy smirk.

Slowly, the smile broadened. The light that Dick had glowed earlier finally came back. Slade was thoroughly pleased that he was able to bring Dick's mood back to normal.

Well, as normal as Slade could consider it.

There was a bashful, yet pleased flush that graced Dick's cheeks at that moment.

"Thanks, sir," whispered Dick. Slade nodded in response.

"I only speak truth to you. Now sit down so we can _finally_ eat something."

There was a light giggle.

"Yes, sir," said Dick with another smile. He quickly took his seat. Wintergreen walked by Slade and placed a plate onto the table in front of Dick. Slade could see an approving smile on the old man's face. Yes, Slade knew he did that one well. He bolstered the boy's self esteem and had defused a potentially depressing thought process for the boy.

All in a day's work.

Wintergreen proceeded to place a plate of food in front of Slade. He noticed the boy's eyes narrowing at his plate, but he didn't think anything of it. For dinner, there were some new potatoes with glazed carrots, some slices of roast beef with gravy, and a sizable amount of green peas.

Slade was about to settle into his dinner when he noticed the way Dick hesitated over the food. He was staring at something with great intensity and disdain. But it was only for a moment, because the boy picked up his fork and started working on eating his meat.

But once again, Slade thought nothing of it and continued with his meal. It was about ten minutes later, when Wintergreen spoke up.

"Richard, eat _everything _on your plate."

Dick made a face as he pushed around the only thing left on his plate: the pile of peas.

"I don't like these," said Dick, his mouth lifting in disgust. Slade was a bit amused. Dick rarely ever voiced his opinions over the food. There were a few times he mentioned that he was allergic to something or he felt sick on whatever, but this was the first time he mentioned that he _disliked_ something.

"Eat them anyway, Dick," said Slade. He expected the boy to grumble and pout as he obeyed, but Slade was promptly surprised.

"No, I'm not eating them," said Dick, shaking his head. He set his fork down and pushed the plate away.

Slade raised his eyebrow. After nearly two weeks of perfection, the boy was going to disobey on a _pile of peas?_ Slade could not comprehend that nonsense. But the look in Dick's eyes as he stared at those peas told Slade a very important fact.

An all out battle over the boy eating those blasted peas was upon them.

"Dick, don't do this," said Slade sternly, yet a hint of tiredness entered his tone. "Just eat them already."

"No," said Dick.

Slade raised his eyebrow yet again. _'No'?_ Did that boy honestly tell him '_no'?_ Twelve days. That had to be the all time record for perfect behavior in a child. Twelve days was the limit for the poster child of perfect adorable, unsettling behavior.

Now this behavior Slade knew just how to deal with; he sighed once and sent the boy his firmest glare.

"Eat them or else," threatened Slade. "I don't think I need to tell you what the 'or else' is, do I?"

Dick squirmed in his seat for a moment. He eyed the peas darkly before sending Slade a defiant stance; folding his arms obstinately.

"I don't like peas."

"They're good for you," put in Wintergreen mildly.

"Saying that doesn't make them taste good," argued Dick, sounding thoroughly incredulous over the matter. "I hate the way they're so mushy. They're just too nasty. Can't you give me anything else?"

"Will isn't going to cook something individual for you," said Slade in a sharp tone. "Stop being difficult and eat them."

"I won't eat them," said Dick, shaking his head again. "You can't make me."

'_Can't make me.'?_

Good grief, since when couldn't Slade make the boy do things?

"I'm not arguing with you on this," said Slade, his eye glinting. "You're to eat them and that's that. Now just eat them."

Slade went back to his dinner, not looking up at the boy. There was no way he was going to humor the boy in this behavior. Refusing to eat the confounded peas was just a defiant rebellious streak at the moment. No matter the perfect behavior; being difficult over _peas_ was just down right laughable. Slade was not going to let the boy get away with that.

Something wet flicked at Slade's forehead. A single pea appeared on Slade's nearly finished plate. Slade raised his eyebrow as he stared at the solitary pea on his plate. Slade slowly lifted his head to look at the boy.

Dick had a _very_ mischievous look on his face.

_Oh, no he didn't…_

"Did you just fling a pea at me?" asked Slade softly in an exact tone. Dick gave him a firm nod.

"Yup."

_He did!_

"Have you lost it?"

Another pea was flicked at Slade's face; the wet vegetable struck his cheek near the bridge of his nose. The boy's lips curled into a triumphant smirk as he grinned mischievously at Slade.

Wintergreen looked extremely amused through all this.

Slade couldn't believe it. What on earth had gotten into the boy? Mischievous behavior? Slade knew that Dick could display playful and mischievous behavior at times, but he never imagined that the boy would have the nerve to display it with _him_.

"Dick, you are skating on thin ice now."

"What, can't take a challenge?" asked Dick confidently; his young face still lit up in his mischief and holding a single pea in between two of his fingers, looking extremely ready to fling it at him. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"I will not stoop to throwing food at you. And at any rate—" Slade nodded his head towards Wintergreen. "Will hates wasting food and this spells just that. Now stop this at once—"

Another wet pea hit him in the nose, bouncing off to land on his plate.

Slade closed his eye; trying extremely hard not to go off on the boy. Dick was obviously testing his boundaries once again, which was so strange – he knew the consequences of such actions. Did he really enjoy playing with fire?

Slade stood up, which made Dick scramble to his feet and back away slowly. Slade took a step towards him, which only made the boy take a step back as well.

"I don't get you, Dick. Why do you insist on getting into trouble?" said Slade, taking another step towards the boy. "You've been doing so good recently."

"I'm not trying to," insisted Dick, at least having the good brain to look extremely nervous. "I just hate peas and I can't understand why you have to force me to eat something I don't like."

"You're just being belligerent over this."

"I'm not! I really do hate peas!" protested Dick. "Come on, Slade. I've been really good. You said it yourself; I've been obeying you, haven't I?"

"You have. Which is why I cannot comprehend your behavior at the moment," said Slade, placing his hands on his hips.

"I don't like peas," said Dick, looking thoroughly incredulous. "There's nothing to _comprehend_ there. I just don't like them. There's nothing complicated with that."

"I personally just think you're trying to maintain some kind of control over something in your life," said Slade. "And that's why you're behaving like this."

Dick scoffed with a light laugh as he threw his arms into the arm in exasperation.

"This isn't some psychological crap I playing with you. I hate peas. End of story. I've always hated them. Not even my mother made me eat them."

"I'm not your mother."

"_Obviously_," drawled Dick. "You're trying to make me eat them!"

That's it. Time to nip this in the bud.

"Stop this nonsense or get your backside spanked," threatened Slade, his eye glinting dangerously. What is up with this boy? This had to be stopped immediately. Since when did Dick give him trouble over the little things? Why would the boy put up a fight over _peas_—_good grief!_

Dick suddenly looked even more nervous at Slade's threat; clasping his hands behind his back for a minute – obviously an automatic reaction to protect said area. A hint of pink entered the boy's cheeks.

But then, strength entered the boy's face as he unclasped his hands and balled them into fists; facing Slade with newfound determination in his eyes.

"I don't think I should have to eat them," said Dick, his tone strong. "You shouldn't force me to eat something I hate."

"Eat them now, Dick," said Slade.

The boy got a defiant look on his face.

"Make me," goaded Dick bravely, folding his arms stubbornly. Slade raised his eyebrow at that. _Make me?_ Good grief, the boy was asking for it. But what was the boy expecting? A sharp reprimand? It obviously wasn't deterring him from being a little brat about the whole thing.

A mischievous thought of his own lifted in Slade's mind.

Well, if the boy wanted to make this difficult, Slade was more than happy to oblige the boy this evening.

Slade marched to him. Dick tried to dart away, but he was grabbed from behind; Slade's powerful arm curling around his chest. Shock rippled through Dick as he was dragged to the table. Dick flailed and struggled suddenly, knowing instantly he wasn't going to like what going to happen next.

He was right.

With Slade's free hand, the man grabbed a spoonful of peas and made his way towards Dick's face. Dick vigorously fought; flailing his arms against the incoming hand. The spoon made it into his mouth without a hitch; a heap of peas pooling over his tongue. Seconds later, Dick spat them out all over the floor.

_Uh oh…_

A low growl rumbled through Slade's body. Dick could feel the entire effect throughout his own body. He stilled, beginning to realized the position he was in. While Slade's arm was around his chest firmly, it wasn't hurting him at all – even though Dick had been flailing like a nut.

He didn't have any more time to consider it, because he was whirled around in the man's arm. Dick's eyes widened even more. It felt so strange for Slade to be half holding him like this. Dick was overwhelmed by the feelings he normally felt when the man usually touched him in a casual, yet caring way. It stopped him from struggling.

However, what Dick didn't like was the irritation on the man's face as he began to bring another spoonful of peas to his mouth. Dick didn't have time to struggle as the nasty, mushy things were shoved through his lips. He gagged and once again automatically spat them out—

All into Slade's face.

A mixture of spittle and peas slid down the man's increasingly irate face.

"Uh—I didn't mean to do that!" cried Dick, a chill sliding down his back at the look in Slade's face. The man glowered at him.

"Seriously! It just happened. You can't just shove them into my mouth!" insisted Dick. "Anyone would spit them out."

A strange, contrasting phenomenon was currently occurring inside Dick. He could feel Slade's arm was still wrapped around his back; the man's hand firmly placed in the mid-section. It gave Dick the impression of a small hug – _almost_. Even though the situation was completely out of hand, Dick had the calm feeling of safety in the man's arm. Although, while the man was thoroughly and completely irritated – and all directed towards him – it still felt… sort of nice.

So many conflicted feelings and so little time to deal with them.

Especially since a moment later, Dick found himself lifted into the air and locked around the waist beneath Slade's single arm—the man was strong enough to carry him one handed. The man began to march towards the hallway.

_Which meant…_

"Slade, wait!" cried Dick frantically, his arms pushing against Slade's waist while his legs flailed in the air.

"Why should I?" demanded Slade, continuing down the hallway. "I cannot believe this! Your behavior resembles that of a two year old! I see no reason why I need to put up with this any longer. We are _done_ with this."

"No, please, Slade!" begged Dick, struggling even more; glancing up nervously to his bedroom door. "I wasn't trying to—I just don't like peas and I still don't understand why I have to eat them."

"Because I said so!"

"But I do _everything_ you say!" protested Dick, furiously pushing against the man's hard, unbending waist. "Do you really have to control _everything_ I do? Please, I just really, _really_ hate peas. Why can't you give me something else? Broccoli or something, for crying out loud!"

Slade stopped suddenly and looked down at the flailing Dick.

"You'd eat _broccoli_ over peas?" asked Slade, sounding completely incredulous at the very thought.

"_Yes!_" cried Dick.

"You couldn't even pay Grant to eat broccoli," murmured Slade, shaking his head. Dick stopped struggling and hung in the man's grip. He glanced up at Slade; getting an awkward view of the man's chin from below.

"I like most vegetables," said Dick. "It's just peas are awful to me. I also dislike onions, but Will cooks them nicely so I don't really ever have a problem with them. Oh, and I hate whole grape tomatoes, too. When you bite into them and they burst—" Dick shuddered. "So nasty. But I'll eat them sliced."

Slade chuckled. The vibrations flowed into Dick and he had to hold back a small smile. He liked feeling the man laugh, although he would've preferred it in a completely different position. Like a vertical one.

Slade lifted his arm and placed Dick down, so that he was standing in front of the man. The anxiety that had filled Dick's chest at the thought of being in that awful and embarrassing position faded slowly. It seemed as if Slade was changing his mind about… _that_.

Slade folded his arms and set a stern look on him. Dick squirmed under that look – it was so easy to do. That look made him feel thoroughly uneasy. It was like it was saying that he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"I'll make you a deal," said Slade. Dick's ears perked up at this and he listened carefully. "You go back into that kitchen and finished your plate, and you won't ever have to eat them again. However, if you choose not to do that, then there are no promises on whether or not they show up again – and when they do, I'll expect you to eat them no matter what."

Hm… Go back and eat them now, but never have to again; or skip them and hope for the best. Not that hard of a choice, really.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention something," began Slade, a sly smile spreading through his lips. Somehow, Dick didn't like that look. "The second option is saddled with a bonus – a spanking."

Of course it did. Slade wasn't about to let him get away with anything, now was he? And why did he have to call it that? Just hearing the term made his face flush in panicky, embarrassed anticipation. Although, Dick found himself heavily considering the second option. Those peas were just so freaking nasty, his brain was really thinking something quite stupid to avoid eating them.

"Um… Is there a third option?" asked Dick, impishly tilting his head to the side.

"Ten seconds to decide," said Slade, ignoring him.

Ten seconds? He was gonna need more time than that! This was a heavy decision, after all. Either way, he was going to be miserable. He needed time to think over which misery bore more weight at that moment.

"Time," said Slade. "Choose or I will."

"Uh—uh…"

Slade moved forward and turned Dick around to face his bedroom. A firm hand pushed against the center of his back, forcing him to take a step towards the door.

Well, it was apparent what Slade's choice would be.

"I'll eat them now!" cried Dick, digging in his heels as self preservation kicked in full force. He heard a deep chuckle before the hand on his back moved to his shoulder and turned him around again. Dick was pushed past Slade and with a hand returned to the center of his back, he was walked back to the kitchen.

But Dick stopped and turned back to face Slade.

"If I eat them now, I never have to eat them again, right?" asked Dick, his eyes narrowing.

"That's right."

"You promise?"

Slade looked surprised by the request. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded.

"Yes, that's a promise."

Dick nodded, assured. "Good. I'll eat `em now."

"There wasn't any doubt that you would," smirked Slade. Dick returned the smirk with one of his own.

"I did nail you with some peas, though," said Dick with a confident grin. The man narrowed his eye at Dick, but didn't say anything. Dick turned away to continue towards the kitchen, but was startled when a firm hand grabbed his shoulder and then a sharp crack fell upon his seat; a sting blossoming from the impact.

Dick whirled around; face brightly flushed in embarrassment.

"Hey! You said—"

"I said I would spank you if you didn't eat the peas," said Slade with a firm fold of his arms. "_That_ was a swat and a well deserved one for flinging peas at me."

Dick folded his arms as well; trying to ignore the sting in his seat. He just couldn't get ahead with this man – not at all.

Well, he still did nail the man with those peas – that was something.

ooOOOOOoo

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Seven: Dichotomy – For the very first time, Dick accompanies Slade on a mission. However, something goes awry.

**Author's Notes:** *cracks up so bad* I love this line: "So many conflicted feelings and so little time to deal with them." ROTFL I just… It's so… LOOOLOLOL. Gets me every time. XD

LOL, I also love Slade's "All in a day's work." I chuckled at that, _a lot_.

Slade, you softy. You're melting to Dick's adorability. XD Ah, well, who wouldn't, seriously? ^^

Next chapter starts a two chapter arc! ^_^ Should be fun. *smiles*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	37. Dichotomy

**Author's Note: **Thank you all so much for the reviews and support! ^^ I'm really glad you're all enjoying the story and I honestly can't believe we've made it this far in the story. So amazing. :3

So, I asked my friend what a disturbing father and son relationship was, because I was stumped when I heard that. She listed three things that came to her mind. Fluff, *Anthy destroys the second option and screams at the top of her lungs, _**"No slash!"**_*, and Violence. I thought dryly, "Well, I think we passed the third option." XD

Second option is not option, never has been, never will be. Anything I write is _completely_ _**innocent**_ between Slade and Robin. Whatever you hear in the thought process, whatever attachment you see is completely pure. I think I've made it pretty clear inside and outside the novel that this isn't going to turn that way. Seriously, humans can experience close relationships without it being _ugh_. _C'mon!?_

As for the first option, fluff… I think it's safe to be frank with ya'll now. If any of you think fluff is disturbing, I have just one phrase to say to this:

Ya'll are in for it big.

Aheh… ;)

Ah, yeah, almost forgot to mention: **Violence** Warning for these next two chapters. At least, I think so. If you made it through the Joker, you'll make it through this.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**Dichotomy**

**February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 6:41 am.**

Dick was lying in bed that morning. He had woken up before his alarm and did his morning routine. But he was too deep in thought to be ready to see if Slade and Wintergreen were awake. So, he fell back onto his bed to sort out his thoughts.

The thoughts that were rising in his mind were beginning to startle him. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. But they were so confusing to him, that he couldn't help but try to push them back into the far corners of his mind.

But no matter how many times he tried, something incessant would flutter them forward again. It was as if the thoughts had a life of all their own, forcing their way forward to announce themselves and make themselves known to every section of his mind and soul.

The thoughts were ridiculous, though; and Dick forced them back even more, trying his hardest to crush them down. He wasn't going to think those things. They were impossible. Something like that was impossible. There was no way something like that could happen. Besides, it wasn't like he was really feeling that way.

After all, wasn't Dick in a situation that could never truly change in the way he wished?

Finally, unable to handle his thoughts any longer, Dick made his way down the hallway to the kitchen; his bare feet padding lightly against the wooden floor. He stopped two feet from the entrance when he heard Slade and Wintergreen's voices, and he found himself quietly listening in on them. But he couldn't help it – what Wintergreen was saying completely perked his ears.

"You should let Richard go with you. It'd be good for him."

"No way."

"Slade, I don't believe this. Wasn't this whole thing for him to become your apprentice? He can't really do that sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs."

"He's not twiddling his thumbs; he's in training and I don't think he's ready."

Dick's heart quickened. Ready? Ready for what? A mission? Was Slade really talking about a mission? Meaning, get out of the haunt? His heart began to pump excitedly. Dick ran his tongue over his dry lips. It'd been so long since he'd been outside. He'd be able to feel the warmth of the sun of his face and breathe in the fresh air. Plus, there'd be a change of pace, something exciting to do finally after so many months of just endless training that made life sometimes feel like a boarding school had kissed a boot camp.

"Oh, please; you're not fooling me, Slade," scoffed Wintergreen. "He was ready since he got here. _You're_ the one who's not ready."

Now Dick's heart stopped.

"That is _ridiculous_, Will; and you know it."

_Slade's holding back? But why?_ Dick couldn't understand why Slade wouldn't want him to help out on a mission. It just didn't seem normal. But then, Dick remembered and dawning realization poured through him. Was Slade worried that the same thing would happen to him like what had happened to his son, Grant?

A soft, gentle smile slipped through Dick's face. Slade could protest it all he wanted, but it was obvious that fact was true. He _was_ worried or at least subconsciously so. And while it annoyed Dick to be treated like a glass figurine, since it was Slade, it just didn't seem to bother him as much. Slade knew of his abilities and praised Dick often for them. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Dick; it was the man's own worries that was holding him back.

"Is it really?" drawled Wintergreen. "How does the saying go? 'The _man_ doth protest too much, methinks.'"

Dick bit back a giggle.

"I'd say more; but, little pitchers have big ears, _don't they, Dick?_"

_Uh, oh…_

"_Get in here, now_," called Slade's voice, completely emanating a dangerous tone.

Dick swallowed and slowly walked into the kitchen. He smiled sheepishly and gave a single, nervous wave to the two men. Wintergreen straightened at his station at the stove to look over at him, while Slade was sitting at the table, his eyebrow raised.

"Uh… Mornin`."

"Mmmm, yes," drawled Slade, his grey blue eye flashing roguishly. "And just, may I ask, do you think you're doing?"

"Um…" Dick squirmed under the dark look that Slade was sending him, as if daring him to say anything other than the truth. "I, uh… I was listening to you guys talking."

Truth was the best way to go with Slade. Most definitely.

"Yes, I figured that much," said Slade, folding his arms and giving Dick a sharp look. "Who said you were allowed to listen to us?"

"N–no one, sir," mumbled Dick, wiping the palms of his hands against his pants.

"So, you're a naughty little eavesdropper, aren't you?"

Dick flushed deeply and squirmed again. Gosh, he hated the way that sounded. He didn't mean to be; he just hadn't wanted them to stop talking as they would've once Dick entered the room. But… He had to suppose that it was still eavesdropping.

"I'm sorry," said Dick, his eyes glancing up at Slade and hoping his repentant feelings would show forth to the man. He tried to put on a penitent and contrite look, blinking his eyes a few times. Slade's eyebrow twitched before he averted his gaze away from Dick. The man gave out a long sigh.

"How much did you hear?" asked Slade, tapping the chair next to him. Dick took this as an invitation to sit down and he did so; placing his hands into his lap.

"Um… something about letting me go with you?" said Dick. His voice got excited slightly as he continued, "Is it a mission? Can I come? Will I be able to go outside finally?"

There was another long sigh from Slade. Wintergreen chuckled over the sizzling, popping sounds of the bacon.

"I told you he's been cooped up in this place for too long. Going with you will be good for Richard."

"I agree with Will," piped Dick impishly. Slade snorted and rolled his single eye at Dick, a smirk beginning to lift the side of his mouth.

"You would, wouldn't you?" drawled Slade. After a moment, Dick sobered and gave him a serious look.

"Please, may I come with you?" asked Dick, trying to sound as polite as he possibly could. Slade looked a little taken aback by the soft request. But then, he smirked once again.

"What, you're volunteering without even knowing what the mission is?" asked Slade. "What would you do if it's a contract to kill some international crime boss? What would your answer be to that? Is it morally wrong for me to take down a man who has killed thousands and would continue to do so without batting an eye? Is it morally wrong for me to exchange one life for the lives of thousands of innocents, perhaps tens of thousands?"

Dick studied Slade carefully, not wavering in his eye contact with the man. He understood where Slade was coming from; one who experienced war. In war, Slade had to take down his enemies to save his fellow soldiers. Taking down a crime boss would seem no different. Sometimes to save innocents, one had to take out the evil.

But Dick's mother had always taught against taking a life.

What was he supposed to do? He wanted to go on a mission with Slade. For so many reasons, too. Not only did he miss being outside or the excitement that came with going on such a mission, but he also wanted to prove to Slade that the man's training had paid off; that Dick had listened to him and that he was worth the effort.

But he didn't want to kill anyone and there was a part in his heart that felt it would die if it had to watch Slade do so. He wasn't sure what that feeling was, though.

Dick bit his lower lip, his eyes softening. There was another long moment before Slade let out yet another sigh and shook his head.

"The mission is to rescue a daughter of a wealthy politician," said Slade. "She was kidnapped for ransom and her father has hired me to get her back. He doesn't think they'll return her even when he fulfills their demands. I'm to go and retrieve her; alive, of course."

"So, it doesn't require you to kill anyone?" asked Dick. This time, Slade let out a growling sigh; running a hand over his face for a moment. Then, he leaned his elbows onto the table, clasping his hands together as he set a serious eye onto Dick.

"Just because the contract doesn't _require_ it, doesn't mean I might not have to. If someone points a gun at me – or you, for that matter – you can be sure that'll be his last living act."

Dick's mouth went dry and he could only give Slade an acknowledging nod. His stomach turned at the thought of someone pointing a gun at Slade. For some reason, he hated that thought worse than Slade turning a gun on someone else. But it wasn't as if he cared whether Slade lived or died…

Right?

Oh, but he did.

"Do you still want to come even with that knowledge?" asked Slade.

Dick glanced down at the table. Yes, he wanted to go with Slade. He would just have to make no mistakes. That way Slade wouldn't have to kill anyone. Dick would clear the way for him. The man wanted an apprentice; well, Dick was going to be the best apprentice ever. He'd do whatever it took to keep the man from having to shoot anyone. That's what it would mean to Dick – that's what it would mean being this man's apprentice.

He'd protect Slade from having to kill people.

Dick looked back up and nodded determinedly.

"Yes, sir."

An approving smile spread through Slade's features.

"Well, all right, then. After breakfast, suit up."

ooOOOOOoo

**February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 5:53 pm.**

Dick's legs wouldn't stop moving; causing him to bounce slightly as he remain crouched next to Slade. The man was motionless; completely still as if he were a statue in his crouching position. Dick tried to calm down, but the adrenaline was pumping through his veins far too rapidly. He glanced at Slade, but still he saw no movement.

The man's Kevlar suit was slightly different than the suit that Robin and the Teen Titans had come across. While it was still dark grey in color, there was a two toned section across the man's chest of orange and black – just like his mask. There was thin, pliable metal plating on the upper sections of his arms, elbows, legs and knees; while his chest to his waist had dark grey metal scales.

At his waist was his utility belt with numerous pockets and other gadgets. He wore powerful, complex steel boots that were covered with metal tips. He wore pliable steel cloth gloves that reached halfway to his arms. Over his elbows to his upper arms, there were more of the grey steel scales like there was on his chest.

There were also two large handguns strapped to Slade's back in a sheath harness over his chest. Slade would only have to lift his hands to his back and remove them for a fight. Finally, there was a single broadsword also strapped to his back.

It was such a different image from the Slade that Dick knew.

This Slade was all powerful in his appearance. This Slade meant business. Dick was overwhelmed by the fact that the Teen Titans had barely even caught a glimpse of the true man. But Dick was fully aware of that; spending so many months with the man.

The Slade that the Teen Titans had known had merely toyed with them, like a cat playing with its prey.

Dick's own suit matched Slade's, almost identical save for the single Slade insignia on his chest; an S symbol. Like Slade's mask and suit, half his chest was orange while the other side black. His boots were tipped with metal as well, yet the soles of the boots were silent whenever they walked. He only had a utility belt, however; not having any guns or sharp weapons at his disposal – which he preferred, anyways.

The suit felt so different than the colorful one that he had adorned as Robin – it felt far more powerful.

It had taken them a few hours to fly to the location – Dick wasn't fully sure where they were. Leaving the haunt had been completely exciting for Dick. Not only had he been thoroughly curious where the exit was, he couldn't wait to feel the outside breeze of fresh air blow across his face.

"_So, where's the exit?" Dick had asked the man before leaving the haunt; an innocent smirk spreading across his features. Slade merely chuckled at this and motioned for Dick to follow him. Dick didn't need to be told twice as he tagged after the man._

_Slade stood at the back of the haunt within the main room; the clinking gears grinding above their heads. He lifted his hand and pressed it against the wall. The wall shimmered with orange electronic lighting. There was a deep clicking sound before the wall began to shimmered once more. Then, a section of the wall slid open, revealing the interior of a darkened warehouse._

"_The electronic sensors will only answer to my hand print or Will's hand print," said Slade. Then, Dick could tell that a wry smirk lifted the man's face through his mask. "That being said, even if you could knock out either of us, the sensors require us to be awake. Thus, you could never leave without our permission."_

Dick found that, after learning the location of the exit, he hadn't wanted to leave without Slade's permission. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave – he did sometimes. He still missed his friends – _deeply_ missed them. And he honestly wished he could tell them he was doing all right.

But there were currently some deep feelings that were waging a war inside his heart against his mind and he was doing the very best he could to ignore it. But it was only a matter of time before one side won and he wasn't sure what to do then.

It altered everything he knew about himself; altered the course of his destiny.

Thus, Slade and Dick were currently on the roof of a warehouse, in the shadows, looking down on another warehouse that held the location of the girl they were to rescue. Dick noticed the area was somewhat rundown. The area smelled of mildew and garbage; while the buildings were rusted and dilapidated. The sun had set over the horizon, blanketing the surrounding buildings further in rustic colors of amber gold; soon turning into the dusty blue dusk of the night.

A chilled breeze fluttered through Dick's stiffened hair. He took a deep calming breath, trying to still his nerves. He wished they'd get on with it. He wasn't sure if he could handle the anticipation of the upcoming fights anymore. It'd been so long since he fought against an enemy – since he didn't consider Slade an enemy anymore; although, what the man was to him, he was trying not to think about. Perhaps another mentor like Batman? But somehow, Dick knew Slade seemed even more than that to him.

But he was trying to ignore it.

"What do you want me to address you as during this?" asked Slade in a low whisper. Dick looked over at Slade and their eyes connected – Slade's single eye from beneath his metal mask and Dick's pair from beneath his domino mask. It had been a little strange putting on the mask after having it off for so long. This mask was a little different than his original; the edges tipping upwards slightly.

That's right. Just who was he?

He shouldn't go by Dick; there was no need for a mask then if his enemies heard his name. Should he choose a new name for himself? He wasn't Robin anymore, was he? Wasn't Robin still a hero? Even though this wasn't a mission where they were actually doing anything criminal, Slade was still a criminal himself.

But did Dick want to throw away the name Robin? Did he want to throw away the very name that his mother gave him? Was he going to give up that part of his essence?

"Robin; just call me Robin," said Dick, returning the low tone. "I'm still Robin. If I let him go, I think I'll lose something inside of me. I'm not ready for another identity yet."

Slade's eye widened in surprise. But then, Slade gave him a nod and a quick reassuring pat on the shoulder before resuming his stiff stance of waiting and watching. Dick shivered slightly as another breeze blew by; more frigid than the last. His suit was good against heat, but against cold weather like this he wasn't protected as well.

"It's time," said Slade; standing up and preparing himself to jump. Thankful for the movement, Dick did the same thing; his heart beginning to pump rapidly in excitement. He took another deep breath as new adrenaline began energize him. He was about to help rescue a little girl. He was going to do at Slade's side; as his apprentice; as his partner; as his heir.

He'd prove that he could do it, too.

Slade silently leapt from the roof to land skillfully on the ground; still ever so quietly and stealthy. Dick followed suit; landing in a roll to stop in a crouch just as expertly as the man next to him. A strange number of feelings rose up inside Dick's chest. He was reminded of the first time he ever went out on patrol with Batman. He had so wanted to prove himself to Batman; that he had grown strong from his training. That time had long passed, though. He had tried to prove himself with Batman and only ended up failing. Now, he wasn't going to fail. He would prove that he was strong and worth having by this man's side.

Dick was Robin, the Boy Wonder; apprentice to Slade.

Slade placed a small round device on the electronic keypad near a door. Dick stood close to him; watching the area carefully in case of someone approaching. Slade quickly began to type into the keypad. Within a minute, the door clicked open. Slade removed the device and motioned for Dick to follow. Dick slipped into the darkened warehouse right at Slade's heel. He kept close the man; feeling the need to stay as near to him as possible. It was strange; usually he wasn't like this with the Titans.

But somehow, staying near meant he was closer at being the best he could be.

An arm across his chest stopped him suddenly. Dick looked over at Slade and, in the very dim light, he saw the man looking into the darkness.

"What is it, sir?" whispered Dick.

"Something's… not right," replied Slade in a similar whisper. Dick's eyes widened beneath his mask before they darted around to see through the darkness; trying to catch sight of whatever was making Slade feel unsettled. He hadn't noticed, but Slade had. What was it that made the man feel that something wasn't right?

The arm dropped, before Slade said, "Come on."

Dick obeyed; following after the man into deeper darkness. He could barely make out Slade's broad form in front of him, but it anchored him in the darkness. Dick breathed in the musty air of the warehouse as he stepped lightly. After a few minutes of walking, Slade stopped so suddenly that Dick ended up bumping into his back.

"Sorry," whispered Dick, rubbing his nose after hitting it against Slade's tough armor. The man didn't say anything. Dick noticed that there was light seeping through the cracks in the wall in front of Slade – a door, perhaps? Slade placed something on the door before slowly opening it. Light flooded through the darkness, dispelling it instantly. Dick blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the bright light.

Sometimes Dick wished he could see part of Slade's face during times like these. The man was merely standing there in the doorway; waiting and watching. The mask completely covered the man's face with only his eye visible. Dick had grown accustomed to watching his face and seeking for answers there. But the mask made it impossible to read the man now. Dick was briefly startled by how much he relied on such things. While Slade's expressions were generally impassive, Dick had learned how to read the subtle changes within them.

Slade stepped forward into the room. Dick stiffened, unsure if he should follow. There was a quiet moment before Dick stepped into the room after Slade. Dick's eyes widened as he took in the interior. There were steel walls with intricate patterns; almost like random steel bricks. There were metal rafters above and many shafts. Dick frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. This seemed too advanced for a rundown warehouse.

Suddenly, the ground gave out a tremor. The two of them tensed as the tremor intensified. The walls began to pull apart at the pattern lines. Then, within a swift moment, before Dick could even think to do anything, the walls moved; sealing them into a large, steel box. The walls slammed together, sealing away any light. Dick gasped as the room become perfectly black; not a speck of light peeking through any cracks at all.

They were completely trapped.

There was an annoyed click of the tongue.

"Blast it," growled Slade's voice through the darkness.

Dick tried very hard to calm down. For some reason, the fear was beginning to rise in his chest. The blackness seemed to be all suffocating; the darkness bearing down on him to a choking level. Maybe it was because he had been off the field for so long and maybe it was because he was out of practice, but whatever it was – he was frightened. Something was off; something wasn't right – and in that moment he felt young; younger than he'd felt in a long time.

The blackness just made him feel so alone.

"Slade?" asked Dick, unable to keep the anxiousness out of his tone. "Where are you?"

A hand clasped on his shoulder and Dick suddenly relaxed. Peace flooded through his soul. He knew that hand; it was okay now – everything was going to be okay now. It was so strange – that one hand could calm everything in Dick's heart; could anchor him back to reality.

"Stay close," whispered Slade. Dick nodded, but then remembered that it was pitch black. So, he verbalized his reply.

"Yes, sir."

There was a snapping noise and then vigorous shaking; Dick's eyes were suddenly filled with green light. Slade handed him the glowing light stick as the man worked on removing something else from his utility belt. Dick was thankful for the light; but as he looked at the surroundings, he was all too aware of their predicament.

They were completely sealed in.

"I'm under the impression that this warehouse is more high tech than the outside would lead one to believe," said Slade; the sarcasm dripping throughout his tone. "You know that shifting tremor we felt? I believe this warehouse can change its corridors."

"So, basically we're trapped in a maze like a Pacman?"

Dick could see Slade raising an eyebrow through the eye hole of his mask; the eerie glow of the light stick making the man's mask far more creepy for Dick's taste.

"Interesting analogy. Yes, a bit."

"So, what do we do?" asked Dick. He was ignored for a moment while Slade continued to work at something on his utility belt. Then, finally Slade let out a small noise of exclaim as he pulled something from the belt.

"Aha, here we go," said Slade, his hand holding a small round device. Dick recognized it as one of the explosives that Slade had taught him how to make.

"But we'll get caught in the blast; it's too small in here," protested Dick. The light from the glow stick lit up Slade's mask in an almost ominous way.

"No, we won't," said Slade. It was more than obvious to Dick that the man was smirking beneath that mask. If he hadn't had it on, the green light would've probably given his smile an eerie look – more than likely sending chills down Dick's back. Even now he could feel a few spilling down his spine. Then, the man waved offhandedly, "Probably."

"_Probably?_"

Slade pressed the black button at the top and rolled it across the room until it tapped against the far wall.

"Sla—"

Dick was cut off as Slade pushed him back into the corner of the wall at the opposite side and turned him around. He was further pushed to his knees. Dick felt Slade crouch around him; as if shielding him.

"Curl up; cover your ears and head. It's going to be a bumpy ride," instructed Slade. Dick immediately obeyed the man. He could feel the weight of the Slade's body crouched over him; the arms of the man overlapping his own arms.

A few seconds later, the blast rippled through the air. Dick felt himself yelling in shock as he felt the gust of white hot air blast over his body. After a moment, it stopped and Dick was left gasping for breath. Then, he felt Slade's weight lift from off him. There was a low groan from him. Dick whirled around on the ground to look up at Slade.

There was light streaming in through the hole that the explosion caused; illuminating Slade's mask from behind. Within the shadows of his mask and within that single visible feature, Dick could see that he was in pain.

"Slade, are you all right?" asked Dick, worry flooding through his tone. There was another groan as Slade flexed his shoulder muscles.

"I'll be fine in about sixty seconds," said Slade stiffly, another groan slipping through his lips. "Some of the flames decided to lick my back. They were so hot, the suit couldn't resist them all. Didn't burn it, though; just toasted my skin a bit beneath the Kevlar material."

"But—"

"I heal in sixty seconds. You do not," said Slade, staring down at Dick with a firm eye through his mask. "Don't even bother finishing such a stupid statement."

Dick bit his lip. Slade could read him so well now. How did the man know he was going to protest against shielding him like that? It was nice to know that Slade would protect him, but Dick just didn't like the thought of the man getting hurt because of it.

"Get up. We've got to get moving," instructed Slade. Dick nodded and stood up; grabbing the light stick before he did.

"Leave it. We don't need it," said Slade, peering through the hole carefully. Dick obeyed and trotted over to Slade's side; his heart beginning to pound nervously. Something obviously didn't feel right about the mission anymore. Something was definitely off.

"Slade, why do you think there was a trap like that?" asked Dick. "It seems odd, doesn't it?"

"Because the whole thing's a setup," answered Slade in a flat tone.

"What?"

"There's no daughter to rescue," explained Slade further. "It's obvious someone set me up. They wanted to capture me, but they're going to have to do better than that. Looks like I've got a few demons to work out. Not too much of a problem, though. I always pay my dues."

Dick's eyes widened beneath his mask. Who the heck would set up _Slade?_ Who was stupid enough to do that? The man was all powerful. Who would—_could_ defy him?

Slade let out a low breath before he turned his gaze to him. Dick could see a terribly serious light enter the man's grey blue eye and suddenly, he felt unnerved.

"Di—_Robin_, I need you to listen to me carefully," started Slade quietly. Dick nodded silently in response; almost holding his breath nervously. "I need you to obey _everything_ I say from here on out. No questioning it at all. You do it the _second _I tell you. This isn't an option; disobey and be punished. It's disobey and be _dead_. Do you understand me?"

Dick nodded again. "Yes, sir."

Slade turned his gaze back through the opening in the hole.

"If I had known this was a setup, I wouldn't have brought you along. This is a whole new game plan now."

Dick took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He didn't like this. Slade was sounding far more serious than normal. It was as if Slade didn't control the situation. Since when wasn't Slade in control of everything?

"Let's go. Stick to me like glue," said Slade, stepping through the hole. Dick followed immediately. They walked down the steel grey corridor carefully; metal rafters above their heads. Slade's steps were so silent as he walked that Dick was impressed. Dick kept alert; his eyes scanning the rafters for any movement.

Suddenly, someone fell from the rafters. Dick leapt backwards in a flip to put some distance in between him. Slade whirled around immediately and began to engage with the opponent. Dick could only assume that the enemy was an assassin. He noticed as he bolted forward to help that the enemy was dressed in all black; his face completely covered in the darkness of his clothing. Dick joined the fray as the excitement pounded in his chest.

Slade and Dick made an excellent team.

Dick could instantly tell their opponent was highly skilled. Alone, he would've had a lot of trouble with him. But being by Slade's side did have a perk, of course – he wasn't going to lose.

Using his new skills that he obtained over the past five months, he fought fiercely against the assassin – easily combining with Slade. He blocked at attack from the assassin before swinging his leg around, only to have it blocked. He flipped backwards to put some distance between him and the assassin. But as he stopped, his opponent was no longer in front of him. Dick whirled around hurriedly, trying to find the attacker.

There was clash of steel directly behind him.

Dick whirled around towards the sound to see Slade wielding his broadsword against the assassin, who was wielding a long sword of his own. Dick automatically backed up a few paces to avoid getting slashed by a sword. The battle between them was fierce, blade crashing against blade as the clang of steel rang through the corridor.

Dick was about join in the fight, but was stopped by Slade's sharp command.

"_Stay back_."

Dick felt helpless as he watched the two men fight, but nonetheless, he obeyed the man without question. He had never seen such a fight before – not even when Slade dominated his robots in a five to one fight. The clash of blades was so lightning fast; the sparks dancing in the air with every glance. Dick could fully tell Slade's power here, and yet, the assassin was holding his ground pretty well.

But then, something happened. The assassin snapped something onto the ground and a flash of light glared through the air. Dick was momentarily blinded by the light. Once he opened his eyes, he noticed that the assassin was missing. Frantically, Dick tensed for a fight, whipping his head back and forth before it settled its gaze onto Slade.

It happened so fast; a mere split second.

Slade swiftly grabbed a gun from off his back and aimed it at Dick. The moment was lightning fast, but within that quick moment, Dick's heart froze. The man wasn't going to kill him – that much he was sure. But facing the barrel of that gun still chilled his heart. He was still very much afraid of them. But luckily he wasn't thrown back into the past in terror. The gun shot immediately after and blasted past Dick's ear. Ringing blared through his hearing and he went temporarily deaf in that ear as he became disoriented from the sound.

Something warm splattered his cheek.

Dick whipped to the side to watch the assassin drop to the ground; a long knife dropping from his hand with a light _clink_. Dick's breath caught in his chest. The man was dead; completely dead – bullet wound to the head. Blood was beginning to pool beneath the assassin. The smell of fresh blood assaulted Dick's senses. He put a hand to his cheek and tried to wipe the blood off that had splattered there.

He suddenly felt very sick.

"Let's move," said Slade; depositing the gun back into its holster on his back and sheathing his sword afterwards.

"Y–you didn't have to kill him," cried Dick, looking back at Slade in shock.

The grey blue eye narrowed through the hole in his mask.

"No? Of course I did. It's us or him. That assassin would've kill us if we gave him the chance; would've killed _you_."

Dick swallowed; shocked by the coldness in the man's eye. He wasn't used to this. He was used to the warmth that he felt with Slade around. He hated this new look in the man's eye. Perhaps, it was something that Slade the criminal always had within his eye, but it wasn't something the Slade Dick knew held.

No, Dick didn't want to see this. He didn't want to see this side of Slade. He only wanted to see the teasing, warm, stern, soft Slade – the one who taught him patiently, the one who reprimanded him sternly, the one who anchored him securely, the one that clasped him on the arm in just the right way to tell him everything was going to be all right. Dick did not want to see criminal Slade, mercenary Slade, assassin Slade, killer Slade.

His heart churned at the very thought.

"It's us or them, Robin," continued Slade, power emanating from his grey blue eye. "I won't lose you because you're worried about someone else's life. _Your life is precious_. Compared to you, theirs is not. If I have to choose, you will _always_ be the one I save."

Dick sucked in his breath; shock rippling through his soul by the man's words. His eyes burned fiercely, but he held the tears back. Only his mother had ever told him that – that his life was precious. Those words had fallen from Slade's mouth so easily. It brought the warmest of glows into Dick's heart.

And not only that, Slade would always choose to save him? Dick lowered his eyes to the floor. It was amazing to hear that – from Slade, at any rate. There was no denying it – it warmed his heart even more. It brought a whole new level of safety into Dick's soul.

But that still didn't mean he wanted the man to kill to protect him.

"You could've shot him in the hand or something," said Dick weakly.

"These men will _kill_ you," said Slade, his tone turning icy cold. "This isn't a game like the ones you and your friends play. _This_ is _reality_."

"I know that!" snapped Dick hotly. "I've faced people like this before."

"No, you haven't," retorted Slade. "Think about the Joker. Yes, he'll kill you, gleefully in fact; but he isn't _trained_ to kill. He does it for the thrill of it, for _pleasure_. He wasn't trained to be a killing machine." Slade walked closer to Dick; leaning close to him to whisper. "These people will _kill_ you without pause, without hesitation. This isn't a game to them; this isn't done in their free time for pleasure – this is their _job_; their occupation and they take it _very_ seriously. You haven't face people like these."

"I still don't think you should've killed him," murmured Dick, looking up into Slade's masked face and staring right into that steel grey blue eye.

That steel grey blue eye narrowed.

"So, you'd sacrifice your own life to save your enemy's?"

"No, there's always another way."

Slade growled and grabbed Dick by collar of his suit; pushing him back against the wall. Pressure weighed down against Dick's collarbone as Slade crossed an arm in front of it. The man wasn't hurting him, though – and Dick wasn't afraid of him anymore; he wasn't afraid that the man would hurt him.

"_There is no other way!_" growled Slade deeply, leaning closer to Dick's ear. "Not everyone thinks in the grey area. Some people are just black and white, kill or be killed."

"Like you," whispered Dick. Slade withdrew his arm as his eye narrowed.

"One day on the warfront will do that to a person. Either you shoot that gun or become fertilizer for the enemy."

"I _still_ think there's another way," said Dick. Slade let out a low scoff and shook his head.

"That's why I always call you a child. You're naive to the ways of the world. You're like a little cub, flopping around without its mother."

"And that's my fault?" cried Dick. "I've had to live without a mother, without a _father_ for half my life!"

"That's why you should _listen_ to me, you _stupid_ boy," snarled Slade through gritted teeth.

"What, learn how to _shoot_ someone?" retorted Dick with an obstinate cross of his arms.

"Now this is why I lose respect for Batman," said Slade with a shake of his head; his tone dripping with contempt. "He so drilled it into your head that guns are taboo, it's completely warping your view of the world – and I'm not talking about your trauma, either."

"He didn't—"

"Yes, he did," said Slade in a flat tone, overriding Dick. "And all because his own parents were shot down."

Dick's breath caught in his throat.

"_What?_"

"Oh, you didn't know?" drawled Slade, his tone heavy in mocking.

"How do _you_ know?!"

"I know _everything_, boy," said Slade. Dick could've sworn the man was smirking beneath his mask. Dick narrowed his own eyes beneath his mask. Slade didn't always know everything. He was wrong about two things and Dick wasn't about to let Slade think he knew _everything_.

"You didn't know that this was a setup," said Dick in a low, flat tone. He regretted those words immediately. He tried very hard not to gulp at the icy light that filled Slade's eye.

"When we get home, you'll pay for that. _Dearly_," said Slade, his grey blue glinting dangerously.

"And it wasn't Batman who taught me not to kill," continued Dick; trying very hard to ignore Slade's ominous threat – a shiver down his back betrayed him, however.

"Don't even—"

"It was my mother," said Dick sharply, overriding Slade hurriedly. Slade stopped, his eye widening slightly. Dick pressed on.

"My mother taught me that life is precious. Every life is precious and shouldn't be taken away, because once it's gone, it's gone – you can't bring it back," said Dick, his tone still sharp. Then, he dropped his tone to be more reverent. "She was the first to tell me that my life was precious."

Dick turned his head to the side; his voice dropping to a low whisper.

"You're the second."

There was stillness between them for a long moment. Dick laced his tongue over his dry lips nervously. He was a little anxious. He really didn't want Slade bashing his mother now. It was one thing to bash Batman, but his mother was off limits. He swallowed once; trying to get rid of his increasingly dry throat.

"She was right," said Slade flatly in a low whisper. The man whirled around and motioned with a hand.

"Let's move."

Dick almost couldn't move for a brief second; stunned by the man's answer. Once again, Slade was surprising him in so many ways. Slade was far more complex than Dick had ever imagined. He was powerful, strong, fierce, intelligent, militant, indomitable, warm, firm, quiet, stern, soft, and above all – unwavering and secure.

Dick ran to Slade so that he could catch up to the man. He couldn't hold back the smile that was spreading through his features. He disagreed with Slade on the topic of killing, but he was thankful that the man hadn't dismissed what his mother had said. The man had actually respected what his mother had said.

Dick's heart glowed at that thought.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Eight: Fracturing Innocence – During the fight to get out, Slade comes to an alarming realization that shakes his very core; while at the end of the fight, Dick comes to a startling realization of his own that shakes his heart.

**Author's Notes:** Mmm, didja'll catch them puppy eyes part two? ^^

*Anthy turns to Slade and Robin* "Maybe I should put up neon signs that says 'No Slash'."

*Robin shakes his head* "Yeah, but then watch karma bite you in the butt and the light bulbs go out on 'No'."

*Slade snorts while Anthy considers heavily* "True, that would so happen to me, knowing fate's humor."

*Slade smirks down on Robin* "I honestly don't see why anyone would be interested in a scrawny little child like this boy here."

"_Hey!_"

"Honestly, I prefer a curvy redheaded gal or perhaps a voluptuous blond."

*Robin and Anthy stare at Slade with raised eyebrows at the man monologues different types of women. Then, Anthy smirks and leans down to Robin's ear*

"He's obviously still in love with Adeline. He's naming every type _but_ her."

"Oh…"

*Slade glares at the two with a heavy suggestive glint in his eye*

*Robin squirms* "Ooo… I know that glint, Anthy. That's _not_ a good glint." *Anthy raises her eyebrow before pointing at the man with her tablet pen with a suggestive light in her own eyes*

"Hold up there, old man. I am twenty-five years old. You come near me and I'll draw you in a _tutu_. _A pink, fluffy tutu_."

*long pause*

*Anthy twirls her tablet pen in her hand with a smirk on her face* "Works every time."

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	38. Fracturing Innocence

**Author's Note:** You guys are all great. ^^ Thanks a bunch for all the lovely reviews and for the support. Thanks so much! ^.^

Mm, I thought this appropriate to say here.

I believe in Mary's take on killing. Murder is horrific for those left behind. A life truly is precious and should never be deprived. It is cruel to kill for the sole sake of killing to get gain or in unbridled rage. Life is a miracle that we cannot truly replicate by our own hands; thus, it should never be wasted.

"The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

However, I also believe in Slade's take on killing at times. There comes those times when our freedom becomes threatened. It is those times that we must protect ourselves; for our religion; for our freedom; for our peace; for our wives or husbands; for our children – for our freedoms that allow us to be whatever we choose to be and whatever we choose to believe in. Those who sacrifice themselves to protect their country from enemies to their freedom are _not_ murderers when they must kill.

Police officers, military, navy, air force, FBI, secret service, and more – whoever must protect the innocents bear a heavy burden to do so and I have nothing but respect for such people. *bows reverently to such*

Sometimes, it is better that one person should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief or fall under oppression to their freedoms. But such things should only come under those who have authority to do so.

A little belated, but ya'll can consider it a Fourth of July thought process. ^^ I am most thankful for the brave people who fought for the freedom that America holds.

Now, time to start the week off with a bang. *smirks* **Violence** warning is still in effect here.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

**Fracturing Innocence**

**February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 6:37 pm.**

The boy was smiling. The boy was actually _smiling_. Slade raised an eyebrow as he stared at the young teen. It definitely wasn't excitement. He just looked thoroughly happy; _joyful_, even. Slade couldn't imagine what he had said to make the boy grin with such light like that. Especially since they were still at odds on the matter of killing.

But the boy's face was literally lit up.

It perplexed Slade to no end. He would've understood the thrill of entering enemy territory; the thrill of fighting for your life in an endless struggle; the thrill of outsmarting your foes; the thrill of overpowering your foes with pure strength – but this positively glowing expression on Dick's face was just not any of those.

It was like he was joyful beyond measure; beyond anything known to man – far more than what was fathomable to Slade.

_That boy…_

Slade shook his head. He truly was an odd kid. Slade just couldn't imagine a stranger time to put on such a happy smile. The boy kept close to him, even nearly bumping into him at times when Slade stopped to listen and look around. It wasn't that he wasn't aware, it was almost as if the boy wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Such a strange child.

Slade peered around a corner carefully. The corridor was completely clear, but something wasn't right. He could just feel it in the air. There was an inhuman stillness about it. These feelings were the honed instincts of a war torn warrior. He had learned all too well what lay before them.

There had to be an ambush ahead.

He felt the boy inch closer to him; their shoulders bumping at the closeness. Slade turned his head back to him and mouthed carefully _'ambush'_ to the boy. Dick nodded in understanding and his arm dropped behind his back – no doubt to grab his bō-staff.

Slade turned back to the hallway, taking a deep breath. He let a smirk lift his mouth.

Time to dominate these fools.

Slade bolted around the corner with Dick close behind him. Ten assassins fell from the rafters; each wielding duel blades. With lightning reflexes, Slade pulled out his own broadsword in his right hand and a gun in his left. Bullets were immediately fired into the group. Within those swift moments, he was able to take down one of them before they could do anything more.

Nine to go.

There was a small laughing sound from Dick, almost mischievous like, as he frog hopped over Slade's back; flipping twice in the air before he landed a kick on one of the approaching assassins. The fight intensified. The boy withdrew his bō-staff and engaged the enemy. Slade was careful in firing his gun in the effort to avoid hitting Dick. Instead, he used the butt to smash into the hidden face of one of his opponents; swinging his sword to block two blows from a dual effort – there was a _clang_ of metal, sparks flying in a metallic dance.

Slade caught a glimpse of Dick in the fight and he couldn't hold back the smile that lifted his mouth behind his mask. The boy was doing superb. _Absolutely superb_. He was fierce as fought with opponents that were far more seasoned at this than he was. But he was still holding his own.

But he wasn't flawless.

There was a brief moment where Slade could see an opening and one of the assassins saw it, too. The assassin darted forward, ready to stab the boy in the heart with his duel blades.

Slade overpowered the three that were around him; slashing through the three of them with a tremendous swing of his blade. There was a flash of metal as blades connected with blades. In the moment, Slade took the brief time to lift his gun and fired two shots. His aim was perfect as ever. The bullets connected with his target in the back of the head. The assassin fell a mere foot away from Dick, blood beginning to blanket the ground with its crimson color. Slade could see the momentary pain that flashed across the boy's face at the fallen foe.

Eight left.

Slade wasn't about to let these inferior assassins take down his boy. Dick was far too special, far too extraordinary to let him fall before such scum. Dick was _his_ apprentice, _his_ heir and he'd sooner be committed before he'd let anything happen to that boy.

The remaining foes were now more determined to bring Slade down. All eight raced forward towards him; ignoring Dick altogether. It was more than obvious to Slade that he was the target of this whole setup.

Good then. All the more reason to annihilate them.

As all eight were upon him, Slade could do nothing but smirk. This was sheer child's play to him. His movements were fluid as he dodged every attack at lightning speed. His attacks brought down two others, completely unconscious, to the ground. Dick jumped into the fight a moment later and brought down another with a hard kick to the head.

As another assassin tried to take out Dick from behind, Slade shot him the chest. Dick had barely managed to dodge out of the way and he was splattered with blood from the bullet. The boy looked sick for a moment, but pressed forward in the fight.

Seven to go.

The four remaining that were able to fight continued to wage a good battle, but Slade knew it was only a matter of time before he brought them down.

Dick leapt between two of the assassins and managed a double kick in the air – knocking both out with his powerful boots. Then, he landed on his hands before leaping back onto his feet, striking upward into the chin of another one. As he did so, Slade took the opportunity to take out the fourth with another gun shot. The boy was yet again splattered with blood.

Six more.

Slade rounded on the remaining one and quickly put an end to him with yet another shot. Five dead and five unconscious now. Dick looked over at Slade; his chest heaving heavily with his breathing. His face glistened with sweat and Slade could see quite a few splatters of blood on his cheeks along with multiples of the crimson color splattering his suit.

Something churned inside Slade's chest and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. That sight was burned into his mind and suddenly a wave of irritation flowed over Slade. But at what, he wasn't sure. He choose to ignore it instead and quickly turned to those who were alive, but unconscious. He lifted his gun—

"_Wait!_" cried Dick.

But it was too late. With five swift pulls of the trigger, Slade shot each of them in the head. Satisfied that all foes were down, he pocketed the gun into its holster. He pulled out a black cloth from his utility belt and took a single swipe over his broadsword to clean it of blood before returning the blade to its sheath. Then, Slade turned to look at Dick.

The boy looked positively crestfallen. His arm was outstretched as if to stop Slade. It slowly lowered to his side as he looked at the floor, which was quickly pooling with more fresh blood. The boy began to tremble.

"Yo–you didn't have to…" murmured Dick. Slade sighed. The boy was still going on about that. It was obvious these people meant business. They were here to _kill_ them. This wasn't a stroll in the park – this was a _battlefield_, a _warzone_; just like Vietnam. Kill or be killed. It was extremely simple. There was no choice here – _it was a battlefield_.

"Twice, one of them tried to kill you," said Slade. "Twice, I saved you."

Dick seemed to fall at that. He looked so broken over the death of his enemies. Slade couldn't comprehend it at all. Why feel sorrow over the death of someone who would've done everything in their power to bring you down with them? Why feel sorrow over enemies who would never feel the same at your death?

"But the ones who were unconscious…"

"Would've come after us upon waking. There's no use in warring a battle twice," said Slade, his tone stern. Dick curled an arm around his chest to rest his hand on his other arm. His breathing was quickening, almost to the point of hyperventilation. His face crinkled as he gasped for breath. His body trembled terribly as he stared at the pool of blood on the floor and the bodies of his enemies that were soaked in it.

Seeing the start of a breakdown, Slade quickly walked over to the boy and placed a firm hand on his shoulder; hoping to pull the boy out of it.

Instantly, Dick relaxed. He seemed to crumple beneath the touch. His breathing began to regulate and the trembling began to calm down. Dick's clenched fists that hung at his sides were slowly loosening their tight grip. It always fascinated Slade when that happened. He wasn't sure what was so comforting about his hand on the boy's shoulder, but it always seemed to do the trick.

But the boy still seemed so… _broken_.

After a few moments, Dick began to wipe the blood off his face nervously; rubbing the skin so hard that Slade had to wonder if he'd do it until raw. The boy moved to his arm and began doing the same, almost frantically trying to get the blood off his suit. Signs of his breakdown reappearing began to flood over the boy's expression as he tried desperately to get the blood off himself.

"It won't come out right now," said Slade in a low voice. Dick looked back up at him before his lips thinned as he tucked them inside his mouth nervously. The boy nodded lightly before he relaxed. His unfurled lips began to tremble slightly as he turned his head away from the direction of the bodies. His chest rose once as he let out a deep sigh, obviously trying to calm himself. Slade couldn't get over how tender the boy looked; so soft, so fragile; _so_ _broken_.

He looked so torn.

He looked so young.

He looked so vulnerable.

A terrible realization flooded through Slade; thoroughly overpowering in its wave. It completely shocked Slade. He almost reeled at the spot as the knowledge flooded through him like a torrent. It was so astonishing, so severe, so oppressive, so indomitable in its power that Slade was momentarily stunned at the spot. He wasn't sure why he was coming to this conclusion. It just didn't fit into his plans, but somehow he knew. He just _knew_ – _knew_ beyond anything he had ever known before.

Dick wouldn't _ever_ become an assassin.

The boy would _never_ kill.

It was so apparent to Slade at that moment; all too overwhelming; all too astounding. He was all too sure that if he took off the boy's mask, he'd see those innocent eyes staring back at him with pure pain and agony writhing through the crystal blue orbs. Dick would never become desensitized enough to kill without feeling. Time would not bring that to pass within the boy's heart. It wasn't that it was impossible, it was only that the boy's soul was too pure, too beautiful for the taint of blood.

It was too terrible of a burden to place upon his heart – it would break him.

If Slade broke the boy, then he'd be left with a shell; one with no fire and spirit – just an empty shell capable of killing. Slade had plenty of those in his basement. What he had wanted was the perfect apprentice, the perfect partner to be at his side through situations like this; one who could think brilliantly.

Dick was the perfect apprentice. He just wasn't a killer. He'd be one of those boys on the front lines who would go down in a moment in war. He would never be able to pull the trigger. Ultimately, the boy would always choose to sacrifice himself to save another.

That was just his nature.

There was no changing the innocence that the boy had. There was no crafting him into the perfect assassin, the perfect partner. Since he would not, _could_ _not_ kill, Dick would never become an assassin.

It just wouldn't happen.

Slade did not want to break the boy. Somehow, that seemed like the most heinous of sins and Slade found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't break him, not after seeing what the boy was like during these past months. Dick was unique; he was exceptional. The spark of innocence in the boy's eyes was too special to destroy. That innocence was just like Grant's, just like Joey's, just like Rose's.

The innocence was too sacred to destroy.

"Let's get moving," said Slade quietly, squeezing the boy's shoulder once before moving away and continuing down the hallway. They needed to get out of here – _quickly_. For the first time, in a _very_ long time, Slade felt the emotion of fear lick his insides. This was a dangerous battleground and he didn't want the boy to have to deal with it anymore. He just wasn't made for the warfront.

Slade didn't want to shatter the boy's innocence.

It was thoroughly unsettling for Slade to feel this way. All his plans, all his current desires, all his everything unraveled before him and for a moment, he was immobile; unable to move forward. Everything seemed to shatter in his eyes. Everything that he had built the past nine years seemed forgetful; seemed almost wasteful even. There was only one thing on his mind at that very moment. It fueled him; renewing his movement once again. The one thought, the one desire, the one need burned inside his very soul; everything realigning themselves.

_Protect the boy_.

"Stick close," commanded Slade, but he didn't really need to. Dick was nearly on top of him. The eagerness that he had displayed earlier had vanished, but he still seemed completely set on being as near to Slade as was humanly possible. Slade wasn't sure what to make of that, but it was endearing to say the least. Dick was completely acting like a lost little puppy.

Hopefully a puppy that would bite his enemies, though.

Slade's mind was speeding through data faster than a computer; both sides of his brain doing all it can to formulate a plan of escape. Normally, if he'd been by himself, he'd tear this place apart. But Dick was with him and his safety was now the top priority. Slade wasn't going to mention that to him. Knowing Dick, he'd probably be insulted and think Slade didn't have any faith in him. But that certainly wasn't the case. Slade just didn't want to lose him.

He _couldn't_ lose him.

"Where's sonic cannon when you need one?" muttered Slade under his breath. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, before he heard Dick giggle.

"You're asking for my friends to help? You're slipping, Slade," said Dick, mischief emanating from his tone.

"Just because we're in enemy territory doesn't mean I won't tan your hide," snapped Slade, but not with any real vehemence. Dick seemed to understand this and there was yet another giggle. Slade managed to roll his eye without growling and motioned for Dick to follow.

"Hey, Slade; what if we go up?" asked Dick. Slade glanced upwards into the rafters, studying them for a moment. Yes, a vertical route was an excellent idea. The changing corridors might not apply to the higher area.

"Good suggestion, Apprentice," said Slade, patting the boy on the arm. Dick glowed at the praise – almost like a light bulb. Slade smirked beneath his mask. He knelt down on the ground and proffered his hands as a boost.

"You first," said Slade. Dick complied instantly and stepped onto Slade's clasped hands. Then, using some of his strength, Slade jerked his hands upward and sent the nimble boy upward into the rafters. Dick somersaulted in the air before landing in a crouch on one the hanging rafters.

Slade detached one of his grappling hooks from his utility belt and shot it upward. Once it caught hold of a rafter, Slade tested its strength before carefully climbing up the wall. Within a few moments, he was in the rafters with Dick.

"There's a vent over there," said Dick, pointing to a semi medium sized vent. Slade stared at the entrance of it dubiously.

"Like I could fit in that," drawled Slade.

"I don't think you're fat," said Dick with a mischievous grin. Slade couldn't hold back the snort and he shook his head.

"How on earth can you joke at a time like this, boy?"

Dick grinned even wider. "C'mon, Slade. Don't you know me? I'm always the one to come up with the poor puns that make everybody groan internally, but are just too chicken to tell me to shut up."

"Let's get out of here and I'll get you a joke book."

Dick let out a small laugh. Then, he turned his gaze upward, studying the rafters. Slade did the same thing and within a moment, he caught sight of a way out. He motioned to Dick and sent his grappling hook towards another rafter near the upper level. There was a stream of light coming through as if in the shape of a closed window or door. The climb to the opening wasn't that hard and Dick followed Slade carefully. Soon, both were on the upper level of the rafters.

Slade inched along the current rafter to the door and noticed it was a window like opening. With a swift twist, he smashed his leg into the window. His steel boot crushed the door and the force of his blow caused it to burst to the side open. Slade stepped forward as he looked carefully out. The darkness of the nighttime shone through the opening. The moon was bright and low, lighting the darkness, however. Slade could see that this was an opening to the roof.

Slade couldn't stop the relief that began to flow over him. He tried to squash it back down, though. They weren't out of the woods yet. Once they got back home – _then_, Slade could breathe a cleansing sigh of relief.

Not that he'd tell anyone about it, though.

Dick followed him as he stepped out; however, suddenly the door slammed behind them. Slade whirled around to see two more assassins waiting for them. He glanced back and saw one more behind them. Slade seriously wanted to let out a curse. Yet more assassins waiting in ambush. With a fierce, feral growl, Slade twisted his body into a dominating kick. Slade felt something crack from beneath his blow as it connected with his target, blasting the enemy aside with terrible force to bounce off the roof.

Slade turned his wrath onto the other assassin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick fighting the other assassin. Turning all his attention on the enemy before him, he barreled forward. The fight was intense and fierce. Slade could tell this assassin was far more skilled than the others. But it didn't matter. This one would also go down like a fly. In the fight, Slade grabbed his gun out of its holster and smashed the butt into the shoulder of his opponent. There was a brief pause in the fight and Slade took that tiny window; taking the assassin out with one bullet to the head.

"_Slade!_"

Dick's scream made him turn around—But then, it happened too fast – Slade didn't have time to react. Shots blasted through the air and bullets pierced his chest instantly. Pain seared through his body moments after. He felt the bullets embedded into vital areas of his chest and knowing full well it'd take some time for the wounds to heal – greatly obstructing his abilities for some time.

Slade swore mentally. He should've been paying better attention. How stupid, _stupid!_ His eye caught a glance at Dick before he fell backwards from the blast and everything seemed to die inside his heart. The boy was going to get killed now. He wouldn't be able to protect that boy now. It would be all his fault. Blast it. _Blast it_. He didn't… He didn't want… Not again…

_No!_

Another bullet pierced his chest and this time Slade felt it drive directly into his heart. _No!_ Blackness was over his vision before he landed on the ground; terrible regret and self hatred pouring through him as his final feelings.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 16th, 2009. Sunday, 8:43 pm.**

"_Slade!_" screamed Dick. He watched in horror as three bullets struck the man's chest. It easily pierced the suit like it was butter. Dick saw the man's eye glance at him. What was filled in that grey blue eye of his? Was that remorse, regret? Dick wasn't sure because it was then that another shot blasted through the air and caught Slade directly in the heart.

The man fell backwards onto his back.

Dick bolted. He ran as fast as he could to the man's side; completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be fighting someone. He stopped suddenly as he reached the man; skidding to a halt. Dick dropped to his knees in total shock, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. The man's chest wasn't lifting up and down. There was no movement at all.

Dick quickly grabbed the man's wrist, ripping the glove from off the man's hand; his fingers scrambling to find a pulse.

There wasn't any.

Dick's breathing began to quicken as he gasped for breath. He dropped the man's wrist; shock flooding through him, completely overwhelming every particle of his soul.

Slade was dead.

The man was dead.

Dick was used to death – more than any other fourteen year old was or should be. He had seen enough in Gotham City with Batman to know and understand death. Gotham was ravaged with all sorts of horrific deaths and murders.

Even at seven years old, Dick knew death all too well.

He also had just watched this man shoot down people like they were flies. That he wasn't used to. He had never ever watched someone kill like that before. It affected him terribly. There had been times he wanted to collapse and stop. He didn't want to hear the shots and see the blood that followed anymore. But he had known to keep going, to keep fighting for his life.

Slade had been right.

These men hadn't been like anything Dick had come across before. He had never fought against such skilled people who were trained to end his life like it was worth so little. Slade had been right. This was dangerous; this was scary; this was frightening beyond anything Dick had ever faced before – but since Slade had been with him, he knew everything would turn out all right.

Slade had protected him and had saved his life, numerous times in fact. But everything hadn't turned out all right. Everything was horribly wrong. The man was dead. The man that had protected him was dead.

Dick knew he shouldn't be so effected by it. After all, the man that had held him captive for so many months was dead – Dick was free now. Hadn't he dreamed of the moment when he'd be free? He was free of his captor—but was Slade really his captor anymore? But what was there to do now?

He… could go home now.

_Home…_

But where was home? Was it back in Titans Tower? Could he really go back after all that he had experienced these past months? What if his friends didn't trust him anymore? What about Wintergreen?

As if he could go back to Bruce…

In reality, he wasn't prepared for the crushing weight of despair on his chest as he watched Slade lying in his blood. He hadn't fully realized it before, but he knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He didn't want Slade to die.

The tormenting feelings that crashed through Dick were exactly the same as when he saw his parents fall to their deaths. Had he truly become so dependent on Slade that he would classify the man with them?

That's what it seemed.

A gun cocked and Dick lifted his head. A gun barrel was pointing directly at his forehead. The gun was of high caliber and one Dick knew was a powerful weapon that could pierce any armor. The assassin that had killed Slade was standing over him on the other side of the man's body.

"You Deathstroke's apprentice?"

Dick didn't answer. His eyes were wide and locked onto the void of the gun, staring deep into its black depths. His heart pounded rapidly against his chest, sweat beginning form on his skin.

It was a gun

It was pointed at him.

He was gonna die.

"Sorry, kid. But you gotta go, too. I'll let you see your master real soon. Shouldn't hurt a bit."

A sudden burst of adrenaline flooded through Dick's veins. Fury and hate beyond anything he had ever felt rushed through him. The gun blasted, but Dick had rolled out the bullet's path. With a roar of rage, Dick leapt at the assassin, grabbing the wrist that held the gun and jabbing his elbow sharply into the man's chest. Dick snapped the man's wrist, feeling bones break within his hold; causing the man to drop the gun with a grunt of surprise and pain. Dick spun his leg around with terrible force and smashed it into the man's side.

The assassin flew to the side, rolling against the ground to smash into the siding of the roof. Dick grabbed the gun and pointed it at the assassin, his heart palpitating furiously.

He cocked the gun.

It would be so easy to kill this guy. Just one bullet – that's all it would take; _just one bullet_. Dick had been taught by the best, after all – those months of training by the man that laid at his feet. Besides, this demon deserved it. He had taken away an important person in Dick's life – someone he had grown to care for; despite the obvious faults he'd had. The sorrow and grief were overpowering. It didn't matter who Slade was or had been, Dick had seen the human side of the man and grew to understand him. Grew to even… _Grew to even…_

His grip began to tremble slightly. His chest heaved up and down in deep shaking breaths. Was he going to do it? Shoot the man that had taken Slade away from him?

He wanted to; _oh, how he wanted to_. But there was a section of his soul that couldn't. No matter what this assassin did, Dick couldn't kill him… _Right?_

But still…

The pain was so horrible – Dick's heart couldn't take it. It was so unfair. What did he do to deserve this? Why did the people he cared about always have to be taken away from him? Was he just not a good person? Did he just not deserve to have a happy life? Was he just that bad? Was he so terrible that all the heavens were combined against him?

_What had he done wrong?!_

Something seemed to touch his trembling hand.

But nothing was there.

It was soft, warm, and tender. It slipped beside him, another touch on his shoulder. A soft weight leaned against his back, a gentle whispering fluttering over his ear. A familiar lilting, trilling voice rose inside Dick's mind.

"_Don't, my little robin. Don't kill him."_

Dick's breath caught in his throat.

"_Killing him will not bring back Slade. Remember what I said? Every life is precious. Just as you grew to care and love Slade like a father because you saw the goodness in the man's soul; remember that everyone has a spark of good within their hearts. You need only to light it and it will burn away the brittle brush of the darkness, spreading the light all throughout one's heart. So, please, my little robin. Don't kill him."_

The touch faded away as soon as the last word spoke from his mother's voice. But the warmth that those words had brought didn't fade. It felt as if his entire soul was on fire, yet the warmth wasn't overbearing in its heat. Every particle of his body was flooded with that warmth; seeping through every section of his body – radiating it with life. Dick's eyes burned at potential tears with the force of the warmth and his sorrow.

Dick knew he must be going insane if he was hearing his dead mother's voice. But a part of him understood. That warmth wasn't something he had ever felt before – it was not humanly possible; defying all imagination.

And she was right.

She was _always_ right.

Slade was dead. Killing his murderer wouldn't bring him back. He was gone for good. No one can bring back the dead – Dick knew that all too well. No matter his hatred for someone else, Dick just couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. No matter how much Slade had taught him, Dick knew now that no matter what, no matter how many precious people died, Dick could never bring himself to take the life of another.

Dick lowered the gun.

"_Leave_," said Dick in a low tone, trying his hardest not to allow his voice to crack under his burden. "Leave and I'll let you live. Otherwise, I'll kill you."

The assassin stood up slowly, cradling his broken wrist and eyeing the gun in Dick's hand carefully.

"You would've already pulled the trigger if you were planning on killing me," said the assassin offhandedly. Dick lifted the gun and pointed it at the assassin's face. The assassin stiffened.

"I still can. Leave if you value your life," said Dick, his tone terribly sinister. It was taking all his self control to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to break forth at any moment. Each second was painful. He just wanted the assassin to leave him alone; leave him in the confusing grief that he was feeling over Slade's death.

The assassin shrugged. "Fine then. I've done my job, anyways. Nobody said anything about picking off an apprentice. They only wanted Deathstroke. You're lucky today, kid. Chao."

The assassin turned and leapt off the roof, landing on the next building. Dick watched him disappear into the night. He stood there, waiting for a few minutes. Then, he carefully removed the bullets from the gun and tossed them aside. The gun slipped out of his hand, clattering to the ground. He turned to where Slade lay. Each step felt like heavy lead as he walked to Slade's body.

Dick dropped to his knees, sitting back on his ankles. A single sob racked through Dick's chest. He couldn't understand the emotions that were pouring through his heart. He never thought he'd be sad over Slade's death – but that's what he was. Terribly, horrifically heartbroken over his death. He was terrified of being left behind again. His parents' deaths had left a void in Dick's heart – a void of desolation.

Alone.

He had been left behind again to witness a death of someone he cared about.

Oh, _why_ did he have to care about this man?

Tears began to stream down his face as he tried to hold back the heart wrenching sobs that were bursting at his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat. With trembling hands, Dick reached to the man's mask and carefully pulled it off. In the rising moonlight, Dick could see Slade's unmoving face was ashen, whitened as darkened snowfall. The man's expression seemed to be in such pain.

_How much did it hurt?_

Dick knew how much bullet wounds hurt. They were horrible, pain beyond what was logical to man. Slade's face bore witness to such terrible pain.

And it was Dick's fault.

"_I'm sorry_…" murmured Dick as he stared down at the man's face. "_I'm so sorry._ I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him even after he killed you. I'm a… failure as your apprentice."

And with those words, the dam of sobs broke.

Dick lowered his head; placing folded arms on Slade's chest and resting his head against the firm, yet lifeless flesh. He sobbed miserably. His tears soaked into his mask, slipping down the bridge of his nose to fall onto Slade's uniform. He lifted his head up for a brief moment to rip the mask off his face before dropping his head back down; his tears unobstructed now.

He had failed.

He was a complete failure at everything. He had failed Bruce, he had failed the Teen Titans, and now he had even failed Slade – who lost his life because of Dick's foolishness. Bruce hadn't wanted him after getting shot by the Joker. He had broken the Teen Titans' trust after playing the part of Red X. He was truly better off as a loner – better off alone.

_Alone_.

_Utterly left alone_.

Dick buried his head into the man's chest, trying to stop the horrible sobs that seemed to stem from deep within his heart. His shoulders racked tremendously, his body shaking with every tremor. He didn't care that he was getting yet more blood on himself; Slade's blood. He could only cry over the death. He hated death – more than anything in the world. It left a terrible void of loneliness.

His heart felt torn in half; shattered into infinite pieces.

He never got to say anything to the man. It was too late now. When had Slade become someone that he depended so much upon? How foolish was that? This man had stolen him away. How could he come to care about a man like that?

But there had been so many soft moments. There had been so many times where life truly seemed normal to Dick. It had been so different than his time with Bruce or the Teen Titans. Sure there had been a lot of schooling and education in the way the man wanted, but there was also something so much more.

Dare he say… a _family?_

But now it was destroyed beyond repair. There was no restoring what was lost. There was yet another void inside Dick's heart – left by the death of Slade. How utterly bizarre and remarkable was that?

Would he ever be able to recover now?

The sobs intensified; the shuddering intensified; the racked shoulders intensified; the tears never ending. He rubbed his forehead against the man's chest, unable to stop the flow of tears that were determined to soak into the Kevlar suit beneath him.

Something hard pushed up against Dick's forehead. It was slow at first, but then it pushed harder; forcing its way up. Dick lifted his head to see a crimson stained bullet. Frowning, Dick picked it up to inspect the bullet.

It was definitely a bullet – a used one at that.

Dick's eyes began to sweep over Slade's body. Four other bullets in the man's chest appeared. Puzzled, Dick moved one of the bullets to see the wound through the hole in the man's Kevlar suit.

There wasn't one.

A visible shudder ran through Slade's entire body and then, a long groan. Dick sat frozen, his eyes wide. Slade's chest was rising with his breathing. His head was moving slightly as another groan rumbled his throat. Then, came a long sigh.

"Didn't see that coming… _Oh, blast it_. I really hate when that happens," murmured Slade, sounding extremely hoarse. Dick sucked in his breath in pure shock.

Slade was alive.

The man wasn't dead.

"Slade…? _How_…" croaked Dick softly, his voice cracking and trembling. "I watched you… _Stopped breathing_… How is…"

"_Mmm?_ Oh, Dick…" Slade's voice sounded groggy.

The man head turned to look at him. Dick sucked in his breath as he saw the man's eye color. It was different than normal; a violet red with a darkness that seemed to be filled with a terrible, never ending void. There was something so frightening about it that Dick found himself completely stilled.

But then, Slade closed his eye, clenching it shut for a moment before it slid open; narrowing as if trying to focus on him. Dick saw the steel grey blue of Slade's eye; all darkness that was once there within that foreign color gone completely. The color in his face quickly washed over back to its original fleshy tones.

"You're still alive… He didn't kill you then?"

Dick shook his head lightly and rapidly; his eyes wide as he stared at Slade – shock still flowing through him.

"Oh… Good. I–I thought he might kill you, too," said Slade; his voice still sounding weakened. He let out another groan and put a hand to his forehead.

He was alive; Slade was _alive_.

"_I let him get away_," whispered Dick, his voice trembling. His heart was pumping rapidly as he watched the man's chest lifting in his constant breathing. _Slade was alive_. "I could've killed him. But I let him go."

"Is that so? You let my killer get away?" said Slade weakly, sounding slightly amused.

"_Yes_," whispered Dick even softer, lowering his head. "I'm sorry. I—"

Dick took a deep gasp of breath. He lowered his head down; resting his forehead against Slade's chest. He could feel the rising and falling of the man's breathing. He could hear the man's heartbeat and even feel it against his skin.

Slade was alive.

What a beautiful sound.

Dick rubbed his forehead against the Kevlar material. Silent tears continued to stream from his eyes. He wondered vaguely what Slade would think if he found out Dick had cried—_sobbed_ over his death.

"Dick?"

"Tired," murmured Dick in reply, hoping to excuse his action of hiding his face. "I… I failed as your apprentice. I couldn't kill him."

"Oh, that." Slade sighed; Dick could feel the tremble beneath his forehead. "I don't expect less of you."

Dick's eyes widened and he lifted up to stare into Slade' visible eye.

"But I—"

"You've grown quite a bit these past few months," said Slade in a soft voice, overriding Dick. "Some things take a bit longer. I don't expect you to progress overnight – that's unreasonable. Besides, I don't see why you'd kill him anyways when you—" Slade stopped suddenly, his eye narrowing as he studied Dick. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Dick, have you been crying?" asked Slade in a disbelieving tone. Dick didn't even bother to wipe away the moisture from his thoroughly tear streamed face. He knew there was no hiding it now. Dick looked down and nodded slightly. Slade's eye widened. There was a long quiet moment between them.

Then, Slade chuckled hoarsely.

"You'll never be rid of me, Dick," said Slade. His voice was soft and gentle – so uncharacteristic from the man's normal tone. "Because, I'm immortal."

Dick's eyes widened in shock. _Immortal?_ Was that even possible? But if Slade had told him beforehand that he would come back from the dead, Dick would've laughed in the man's face. Now he was terribly aware of the truth.

"_Immortal?_" gasped Dick softly. Slade nodded.

"No matter how many times I'm killed," started Slade, his voice still hoarse. "My soul just won't cross the threshold of the afterlife." There was a sharp exhaling chuckle. "Makes me wonder if I'm not welcome. I withheld this information from you. I guess I shouldn't have. It's the final enhancement, you could say."

So, Slade had died before and came back? Then, that meant…

The man would never die. The man would never leave. He couldn't leave Dick behind. The man would _never_ leave him behind. A wave of sudden relief poured through Dick. It brought even more tears; the new wave streaming down his face in a deep fold. He didn't bother to hide them. He was too overcome by everything. He just couldn't care about the tears at that moment.

_Slade would never leave him._

Slade looked completely startled at Dick's further tears.

"Dick, what on earth is wrong?"

Dick vigorously shook his head. There was just no way he could tell the man what was going through his mind. Slade wouldn't understand. It wasn't like Dick fully understood it either. But it didn't matter. All that mattered at that moment was the fact that this man wouldn't—_couldn't_ abandon him in death.

"_I wanna go home_," choked Dick, roughly wiping the tears away from his cheeks with the palm of his hand. There was a low sigh from Slade.

"Dick… listen—"

"Come on, let's go home already," said Dick, his voice breaking once as he tugged on the man's arm. "I'll help you up."

Slade's eye widened; his mouth dropping open for a moment, before he closed it. He nodded and began the difficult process of sitting up with Dick's help. Finally, with one arm around Dick's shoulders for support, he was able to stand up all the way.

"You are the strangest child," murmured Slade with a small disbelieving shake of his head. Dick didn't answer to that; admitting to himself that the man was probably very right.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Thirty-Nine: Tender Promptings – When Slade doesn't allow him on a mission, Dick experiences a heavy set of feelings of not being needed anymore and completely mishandles the proper communication of such feelings. Meanwhile, the Titans struggle to overcome the gloom and as well does Batman.

**Author's Notes:** *breathes* This chapter… has been written weeks ago. Been waiting for this moment. _So_… how many of ya'll were screaming and going crazy for a bit there? XD Good thing Slade's immortal, right? *dodges bullets*

I believe Dick's heart is so incredibly sensitive. Sometimes I think he's one of the very innocents he tries to protect. He's young, he's innocent in so many ways – sometimes the thought of killing someone to protect the one you love is hard on a young child.

Loved the frog hop – just saying. XD

*Robin looks over at Anthy* "Would you really draw Slade in a… tutu?"

*Anthy gets a serious and contemplative look on her face* "I am confident in my abilities that I could not draw Slade a tutu."

"But then, why say you would?"

*Anthy smirks* "Because it's a _hilarious_ image."

*There's a pause before Robin suddenly gets an extremely alarmed look on his face*

"Oh, _bother_. He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	39. Tender Promptings

**Author's Note:** *smiles happily* Thanks so much for the continual reviews everyone! ^^ You guys are seriously awesome! :3

Hehe, I'm glad that you all seem to like Slade so much that you too would be sad at his passing. :3 Hopefully, it wasn't _too_ painful while reading. XD

It's true. This Robin/Dick is far more sensitive than other Robins/Dickies. For the ending I've planned out, I think that's how it was needed to be. Only one of a sensitive heart could achieve what will occur at the end of this unconventional story – one you have _never_ had before with Robin/Slade. The main plotline of the entire story will reach its peak on Monday. :)

In some ways, I actually think Dickie became more mature after the mask came off. Tears do not equal immaturity. Neither does softness, neither does sensitivity, and neither does innocence; yet the world would have you believe otherwise. His growth will come as well, but there will always be tears for things that hurt his heart. He's safe to do so now, you know? He had to keep it bottled up before and that's just not healthy.

Not only that, he's 14. He's a _child_. Children will always allow their tears to fall. He's also a child who has been through terrible things – including the beginning of his capture with Slade.

And yeah, he _is_ Robin – but much of the time, American cartoons will make you forget that they're just kids. Normal kids in their teen years are dealing with the onslaught of hormones and emotions – the Teen Titans have to deal with that and more; tortured pasts and whatnot. How can we expect them to be in perfect control over their emotions when they're so young? In my opinion, it's completely unrealistic.

As for the sections on Mary and her Christianity, it wasn't meant to create detaches to those who believe otherwise. It was meant to show you a woman who is strong in her own beliefs and to show how her teachings were embedded into Dick's heart. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

**Tender Promptings**

**February 20th, 2009. Friday, 7:21 am.**

_Slade was still alive._

It was still taking Dick time to wrap his brain around it. He would always double check to see if it was true; always checking that chest to see if it lifted in the man's continual breathing; always checking to see if the man's skin was alive with his flesh colors – always double checking; _always_.

And Dick was always gifted with relief inside his heart.

The full implications of his feelings were a bit too much for Dick to completely process at that time. They were too farfetched, too frightening, too _everything_ to acknowledge at that moment. Such feelings changed _everything_ he ever knew about himself. All he allowed himself to think about, to feel was the overpowering relief that always flowed through him at the single all too beautiful thought.

Slade would never die on him.

The fact that he was relieved by that was also crazy, but Dick allowed it. He needed that relief – needed it with his entire soul. He needed Slade to be alive. He… needed the man. How, why, when didn't matter; he just knew that he needed Slade and he needed him alive.

Anything more and Dick pushed such thoughts down, still too frightened by them and what they fully meant – no matter how many times they lilted, trilled, or fluttered at him.

It was early morning a few days later and Dick was currently at the table eating his breakfast with Wintergreen. Slade hadn't surfaced that morning yet. But then, at that moment, Dick looked up from his orange juice to see Slade walking into the kitchen completely suited up, except for the mask – which he was carrying in his hand.

Dick automatically watched the familiar rising of the man's chest for a moment – just out of habit; recharging his relief.

"No breakfast for me, Will. Just some coffee," said Slade, sitting down at the table. Wintergreen hurried to stand up and began to prepare Slade a cup.

"Where are you going?" asked Dick, setting his glass down onto the table.

"Mission," said Slade flatly.

Dick blinked and couldn't hold back the excitement that began to rise inside his chest. Another mission? He'd be able to get out again. The excitement of being able to leave the haunt yet again was too much. But at the same time, his fears rose. He honestly didn't want to experience a mission like he had just witnessed. If all of Slade's missions were going to be like that, Dick knew that his heart would begin to fail him – and no doubt Dick would be sporting a full head of white hair of his own by the time he turned sixteen if he had to watch the man die over and over again.

But he couldn't understand why Slade hadn't told him earlier or he would've been ready by now.

"Cool! When do we leave?"

"_We_ do not leave. _I_ leave," said Slade as he adjusted the strap around his shoulder and chest that held the holster to his gun and the sheath to his broadsword.

_What…?_

Dick's heart fell inside his chest. Why was only Slade going? Why couldn't he come? Slade needed him at his side, after all, right? He hadn't gotten in the man's way during the last mission, right? Dick was still needed, right?

_Right?_

"Wait, what? Why can't I come?" asked Dick, his chest beginning to rise higher in his breathing.

"Because I said so," said Slade, accepting a mug of coffee from Wintergreen; nodding to the old man once in polite thankfulness.

"That's not an answer," protested Dick. He hated when Slade did this. _'Because I said so.'_ That wasn't an answer. That's what the man said when he was evading him. And just why couldn't he come? They just had a mission and he thought he did pretty well on it. Sure it had been a little… well, whatever. Was it because he hadn't killed that assassin? But Slade had said that he hadn't minded.

Was Dick forever stuck here because he wouldn't kill?

"It's _my_ answer," said Slade, his tone turning threatening as his grey blue eye flashed dangerously.

"Still not good enough!" cried Dick, his chest constricting tightly.

"Calm yourself, child," chided Wintergreen gently as he sat down at the table. Dick whirled his head towards Wintergreen; sending the old man an irritated glare. He wasn't going to be calm over this. No way. There was nothing to be calm about at that moment. Slade was trying to brush him off. Slade was acting like he didn't need Dick anymore.

But he did too need him!

"No! I wanna know why I can't come," demanded Dick. "I thought I did a good job last time."

"Mind your tongue, boy. Will is to be treated with respect," snapped Slade, jabbing a sharp finger in his direction. Then, the man sighed, his tone softening. "And you _were_ _perfect_. That has nothing to do with this."

"Why can't I come then?" insisted Dick.

"I am not having this conversion with you," said Slade, sounding slightly exasperated as he shook his head.

_Quit blowing me off!_

"Well, _I_ _am_," snapped Dick. "You can't just leave me behind. I thought I was supposed to be your apprentice. I can't be that unless you bring me along."

"Stop this, Dick."

"_You_ stop this!" cried Dick, bolting to his feet; his chest feeling so tight in its constricting he almost couldn't breathe. "This isn't fair. Why aren't you explaining anything? You're just giving me crap answers."

Slade stood. This had a much greater effect than Dick's move. The man's height towered as he looked down at him with a stern eye. The effect was extremely intimidating – especially since the man was in his Kevlar suit – but Dick stood his ground against him.

"You will stop this now or face the consequences," threatened Slade. Dick took a deep breath; folding his arms angrily. This probably was asking for it, but he didn't care. This time he was right. He wasn't going to let the man pull his authority over him like this. It just wasn't fair.

"I won't," said Dick. "Not until you give me a good explanation."

"Dick—"

"No!" cried Dick, his arms bolting down to his sides in clenched fists. "You need to tell me what's going on. I was able to go on the last mission. You need a partner! _You need_ _me!_"

Dick was instantly grabbed by the arm and forcibly turned to the side. He knew it was coming and he tried to evade it by arching his back out of the way, but to no avail. There was a loud slapping sound as the familiar sharp sting flowed over his seat afterwards. He bit his lower lip as his chest filled with anger at the injustice. He was turned back to face Slade, the man's hands firmly clasped on his upper arms.

"Stop this nonsense before you get yourself into further trouble," said Slade in a low, smooth voice; his face stern as his eye glinted suggestively. Dick wrenched himself out of Slade's grip; anger pouring through him uncontrollably.

"No! _This totally sucks!_ Why aren't you talking to me?" shouted Dick.

"Watch your mouth!"

"_No!_" cried Dick, fists balling up once again; his arms trembling as his chest twisted and tightened. "I don't get you! Why are you doing this?"

It wasn't fair. Slade wasn't supposed to do this to him. This is what Batman did. Batman was the one who didn't need him anymore. Slade wasn't supposed to stop needing him. Wasn't that what the man needed, wanted – a partner? Wasn't that the whole freaking reason why the man brought him here in the first place? Was Slade suddenly going to fire him, too? Why did everyone stop believing in him? Why did everyone stop needing him?!

"I thought… I seriously I thought I was supposed to be—"

"Dick, I don't want you on _this_ mission," said Slade, his tone firm and sounding slightly exasperated. "It's as simple as that. It doesn't mean there won't be other missions. I just don't need—"

'_I just don't need…'_

"_No!_" shouted Dick, only hearing those words in his ears. "You _do_ need me. Why are you doing this? If I failed last time, then I'll do better this time, okay? Just let me come!"

"You are _not_ coming," snapped Slade severely, his tone rising with his temper. "And that's final. You have one more chance before I _end_ this. Don't push me—"

"_No!_ You can't stop me! You can't leave me behind like this. I'm going with you whether you _like it or not!_" cried Dick, slicing a hand through the air in his fury.

A low, feral growl rumbled from deep within Slade's throat. It nearly echoed throughout the room. Dick was grabbed by the underarm as Slade began to march towards the hallway; dragging Dick with him in his firm grip.

Oh no, he _won't_.

Dick wrenched free of Slade's grasp, darting away to put some distance between him and the man. He wasn't going to let the man do that to him – not when he wasn't doing anything wrong. This time Slade was wrong. He didn't have the right to leave him behind. He didn't have the right to stop needing him. Slade couldn't punish him for no reason. No. No. _No._

But Dick was grabbed around the waist from behind. He was easily lifted into the air and pulled underneath Slade's arm. Dick pulled his arms free and began to pound his fists against the man's lower Kevlar scaled back; flailing fiercely.

"Let me go, Slade!" shouted Dick. "I didn't do anything wrong. _Lemme go!_"

But he was being carried out of the kitchen; completely unable to be freed of the iron grasp as he hung in this man's arm. Dick glanced up to plead for Wintergreen's help, but the old man only had a poignant, concerned look on his face. Oh, but it was _fully_ obvious he wasn't going to interfere.

Dang it!

Dick struggled with all his strength. He twisted, turned, jerked, kicked, pounded; but he couldn't get out of the iron hold. _No!_ He wasn't going to put up with this. He just wasn't. This wasn't fair at all. His fists struck against Slade's back as he protested fiercely against the injustice, kicking his legs wildly. His chest was constricting even more through his emotions.

This just wasn't fair! He couldn't bear it if Slade wasn't going to need him anymore. Bruce had tossed him away so easily. There was no way he was going through that again. Slade had wanted him; _well_, the man sure as _heck_ was gonna have him. There was just no way he could toss Dick aside now after all this time. The man had stolen six months of his life. Can't steal that and then toss him aside like a rotten banana peel.

Just no freaking way.

Dick swallowed nervously as he watched them pass over the threshold of his room. _No!_ He wasn't going to accept this. He squirmed furiously. No. Just no—the man didn't have the right this time. Dick hadn't done anything wrong—only when he was wrong could the man do this. Dick was right this time. He wasn't going to let the man sp… spa… Oh man, he couldn't even say that word. The man didn't have the right to wallop him this time.

Just. _No._

Slade sat down on the chair with Dick still in his grasp and now thoroughly draped over the man's Kevlar covered knees. _No!_ He wasn't going to accept this. He squirmed and fought viciously against the iron hold that clamped him down around his waist. This wasn't fair. He wouldn't accept this. No. No. Stop it. He just wanted to help Slade. Why couldn't the man realize that? _This just wasn't fair!_ This couldn't be happening—

Oh crap.

There was no escaping it; the barrage of slaps that pelted his seat. The biting sting with each slap that landed with terrible accuracy merely reiterated the injustice of the whole thing. He didn't deserve this. This wasn't supposed to happen. Slade was being completely unfair right now.

_So unfair._

His chest heaved with his breathing as he tried to maintain his emotions, but he was so _angry_, so _unhappy_, so _affronted_ that the torrent of his emotions broke through his defenses. He couldn't stop the burning in his eyes. He couldn't stop the tears that began to flow from them.

There was nothing he could do anymore. Temporary exhaustion set in after his fierce struggle that he fell limply; his body accepting his injustice. He silently sobbed through it; the tears flowing endlessly. He hated this – this was totally and completely _unfair_. He almost felt betrayed by the whole thing.

After enduring a few minutes of the punishment-that-wasn't-deserved, it finally stopped. Dick was righted, but he didn't look up as Slade pushed him to sit down. His body winced as his fiery, stinging seat hit the mattress. His face was completely drenched in his tears.

"Dick, this was well earned. No matter what, you shouldn't have acted—"

Slade stopped suddenly, his face flooded with shock as Dick raised his head to look up at him. Dick quickly ran a rough palm over his eyes. He sniffled once and then proceeded to send the man a fierce, glittering glare through his tears.

"I didn't deserve that," said Dick hoarsely, his voice cracking from his tears. He wiped his face some more with his hand as he sniffled again. "I didn't do anything wrong. This was unjust."

Slade still looked completely shocked. His mouth was open slightly, obviously surprised that Dick was crying. Well, he wasn't too thrilled over it either. He would've rather had endured the whole thing stoically, but his anger and emotions just wouldn't allow it this time. He was _not_ crying over the pain. _That_ he could endure. What he couldn't endure was the injustice of the whole thing.

And the fact that Slade didn't need him anymore.

"Dick…" managed Slade finally, his tone shattered with shock. Dick ran a hand over his eyes as he sniffled.

"_Yeah_, I'm crying," said Dick bitterly. "Not because of the pain, though, _you jerk_. I didn't deserved this!"

"Watch your mouth," scolded Slade, finally finding his tongue.

"Why should I?" said Dick, his tone filled with pained injury. "I just wanted to help you. But you're shoving it back into my face. I shouldn't be punished for this. This was unfair!"

"You were extremely disrespectful and belligerent."

"And you're being domineering and unjust!" cried Dick. "This whole thing is just horrible. I'm fine with this – _sort of_ – when you're right, but this time you aren't!"

"Dick," began Slade, his face lifting incredulously. "You threw a tantrum. Like a two year old. That's the only word I can describe it. _A tantrum._"

"_I did not!_" cried Dick hotly. "You wouldn't talk to me!"

Slade sighed deeply, running a hand over his face for a moment. He pulled the chair closer to Dick, so that their knees bumped together. Slade leaned closer to him as he firmly clasped the sides of Dick's thighs.

"Dick, answer me this," said Slade, his tone turning extremely serious. "Did you or did you not, shout disrespectfully at me and Will?"

"I—"

"Answer that question and that question only."

"…_yes_…" growled Dick. Slade's eyebrow rose and Dick added grudgingly, "…_sir._"

"Did you or did you not, tell me – in effect – that you would not obey me?"

Dick folded his arms grumpily; staring down at his legs. No, this wasn't fair at all. Slade was in the wrong – not him. Slade was being completely unreasonable and sneaky.

"Answer the question."

"Yes… _sir_," growled Dick again.

"So, you admit that you were disrespectful and disobedient?" asked Slade, both his eyebrows raised in question.

"Yes, sir…"

"What's the punishment for being disrespectful and disobedient?" continued Slade. Dick closed his eyes. Why was it that Slade could always twist everything in his favor? He totally made it all sound as if Dick had been the one that had been out of line. But Slade was the one who wasn't explaining anything and Dick deserved some answers.

Dick mumbled an incoherent answer; not wanting to say it out loud. But that wasn't going to slide with Slade.

"A verbal answer, if you please. Look at me and answer the question," said Slade. Dick sighed and opened his eyes as he looked up into Slade's face. He tried very hard not to pout and blush as he worded the answer.

"A–a walloping."

"Okay, so let me get this straight," started Slade. "You were disrespectful and disobedient. Therefore, you received the punishment of a span—_walloping_." Slade amended himself quickly at the flushing glare that Dick sent his way. "You've been dealt with fairly as per the rules that have been established. How is this unjust?"

Dick tightened his folded arms and huffed. "It just is, all right?"

"Dick…"

"You wouldn't talk to me!" cried Dick, his chest heaving once. "You can't just expect me to allow you not to tell me anything."

"Dick, I am the adult and you are the child," said Slade with a deep sigh. "You're to obey me with or without explanation."

Bitterness rose inside Dick's heart. His chest constricted as his throat went completely dry. His eyes burned fiercely; hating that statement more than anything.

"Bruce said that."

"What?"

The hurt and anger rose inside Dick's chest as he wiped the moisture from his eyes, yet further moisture followed. He left his palms there to hide his eyes, trying to stop the relentless flow of tears and sobs that were determined to break through. He heaved his chest once in frustration.

It was that same terrible feeling again. The one of being left behind. His parents had left him behind. Bruce had left him behind, and now even Slade was trying to leave him behind. What was wrong with him that people felt the need to leave him?!

His entire body shuddered as he took a deep breath. Oh, man; he needed to be alone right now. He didn't want Slade to watch him lose it. He was about to lose it into a deep ocean of sobs – _not_ good. Why did he have to be so emotional right now? Why did it feel like everything was crashing down around him? First Slade _almost_ dying, then Slade acting like he didn't need him, and now this.

Why couldn't he just hold back these freaking tears already? Make them stop—_make them stop!_

Two hands clasped Dick's shoulders. They slowly began to slip down his arms only to rise back up, over and over in a soothing motion. Dick's breathing quickened for a moment in surprise by the soft gesture, but soon his breathing calmed. How was it that Slade could calm him down with such a soothing touch when _he_ was the one who caused all this, Dick wasn't sure. But he was, nonetheless, extremely thankful for it.

Because of it, the torrent of tears and sobs that had wanted to force through his barrier of strength began to weaken their resolve.

It was soon that Dick found his composure to look back up at Slade, sniffling somewhat and still rubbing the remnants of tears from his wet eyes.

"Dick," began Slade, his hands now resting on Dick's shoulders. "Tell me as concisely as you can – if you can – the reason why you're so worked up. I know you wouldn't act up over nothing. Tell me what's wrong."

Dick nodded in agreement and swallowed, trying to gain his voice that he knew would be cracked and choked from his tears.

"I–I just… I just don't want to be left behind. I want to help. I wish you'd tell me what's going on. You—you still need me, right?" Then, Dick softened his tone to a deep whisper. "_Please, tell me you still need me._"

Slade looked momentarily shocked by this. His single visible eye blinked rapidly a few times. But then, he took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"The mission is one of my own. I'm taking care of some leads to whoever led us into that trap last time," said Slade, relating the information in a toneless, instructing voice. "I do not want you to come along because it's going to be like last time – if I had known beforehand it was going to be a setup, I would _not_ have brought you along for the ride."

"But—"

"Your competence has nothing to do with it," said Slade, firmly overriding Dick. "Merely your safety. _That is all_. Do not worry, boy; I still need you."

Slade withdrew his hands from Dick's shoulders and gave him a pat on the leg; standing up afterwards.

'_I still need you.'_

Relief flowed through Dick at those words. His heart instantly softened in his calmness, every trembling that his body had been going through ceasing completely. The burning in his eyes faded away and the only discomfort he was currently experiencing was the remnant reminder of the outcome of his foolish outburst against the man.

_He was still needed._

Then, his mind perked up as he caught hold on what else the man had let slip.

"I'll be back by tonight or tomorrow morning, I'm sure. Stay out of trouble, _please_. I _beg_ of you," said Slade with a wry smirk. Dick only nodded, too overcome by three words that Slade had just said. The man barely made it to the door when Dick looked up and spoke.

"So, you were worried about me?"

Slade froze at the door. Dick watched as not a single muscle of the man's body moved. The man was a complete rock at that moment; frozen in shock, no doubt. Then, he finally answered before fully leaving the room.

"I have no use for a dead apprentice."

Dick smirked as the man left.

_Can't even admit it himself, now can he?_

ooOOOOOoo

**February 21st, 2009. Saturday, 6:00 pm.**

Things were getting worse

At least that was what Cyborg's opinion was. There was no end in sight and he knew he was starting to annoy the Dark Knight with his most recent two calls. But Batman always told him there was no major news on his end – which led Cyborg to believe that Batman was holding back smaller pieces of the information.

Cyborg just couldn't understand it.

Why would the man hold back information? What if they had insights that Batman didn't have? Sure, the man was the greatest detective in the world, but that didn't mean the Teen Titans didn't have things to offer to the pile. It just didn't seem fair or, heck, even decent common courtesy.

Just wasn't fair.

After their failure with their lead, the gloom that fell upon that Tower just got worse; intensifying to the greatest of clouds. Raven spent most of her time in her room, trying to mediate to control her emotions. Cyborg knew it was getting harder on her to do so. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she was greatly sensitive to her friends and the thought of Robin being kidnapped still was taking a terrible toil on the empath. There were times that she joined the group just for the sake of companionship, but most of the time she was holed up in her room.

Cyborg was honestly getting more worried about her.

Beast Boy seemed to have lost his life energy. It was far worse than during the first two weeks Robin had gone missing. Most of the time, Beast Boy was transformed into a small dog; curled up on the couch and whimpering at times.

Cyborg could only realize just how young the changeling was – being barely thirteen. Cyborg tried everything he could to try to cheer up his young friend. But it just wasn't happening. Those emerald green eyes would always be filled with pain, worry, and loneliness. Cyborg was reminded just how vulnerable Beast Boy was. He knew a little about the kid's past – his parents dying at a young age and being a member of the rigid Doom Patrol. But Cyborg was honestly at a loss to know what to do.

Not that he knew what to do for himself. Everything seemed to be falling apart around him. The sands of his sanity were slipping through the cracks in his fingers of his cupped hands. He just wasn't sure what more to do. There was just _no_ word. There was _nothing_. Slade had disappeared completely. They had never fought a single one of the man's robots in all these six months.

Why did Slade take Robin in the first place? Was that perhaps his plan from the beginning with the Teen Titans? To take away their leader?

Would they ever get to see Robin again?

The amount of stress that was put upon Cyborg was definitely more than the average teen could handle. He had to consider himself lucky at times that he was half machine. He probably would've collapsed under the intense pressure he felt.

But the shining oddity in all this was Starfire.

Out of all four of them, she seemed to be at… peace.

Which was so strange to Cyborg.

He would've thought that she, out of all of them, would be the most effected by it all. She had been the closest to Robin – Cyborg even saw the potential of more growing between them. But she seemed so calm, so at peace by everything. She greeted everything with a smile. It was like nothing had happened.

It was like she acted as if Robin hadn't ever left.

But Cyborg knew she wasn't so callous to forget Robin. That was absurd. This was _Starfire_; the girl whose smile almost made flowers pop up out of the ground. She was the first to comfort; the first to hug; the first to smile; the first to praise; the first to be happy; the first to be empathetic to others' pain.

Cyborg just couldn't understand this oddity that had overcome Starfire.

It was in that moment of his thoughts that Starfire came up to him in the main room. He had been sitting at the computer, staring at some paperwork and willing it to write itself. But of course, it would never listen to him.

"Here, Cyborg," said Starfire, handing him a plate. "I made you a sandwich that you may partake while you work."

Cyborg accepted the plate. He looked up at Starfire. The girl was smiling softly at him; kindness glittering in her eyes.

"Thanks, Star," said Cyborg in a murmur. "Um… Can I ask you something?"

"Anything at all."

"What's going on with you?" asked Cyborg, setting the plate aside.

"I do not understand what you mean," said Starfire, tilting her head to the side.

"Why are you so happy?" asked Cyborg, trying not to sound as incredulous and confused as he felt. "You've been nothing but happy. I don't get it. Aren't you at all worried about Robin?"

Those monochromatic green eyes softened with a deep sadness, yet there was still a contrasting strength inside them. It was the most startling thing Cyborg had ever seen in her expression. There was sadness, yet there was such peace.

Such hope.

"I worry about Robin every single moment that passes by," whispered Starfire. "But that doesn't mean I will be sorrowful. There is a peace inside my heart."

"How can you have peace?" cried Cyborg. "I don't get it. He could be hurt—beaten. He could—"

"Cyborg," whispered Starfire, her voice ever so soft, but there was something so strong about it, that it caused Cyborg to stop his outburst. He stared into her eyes and wondered where she was getting her strength. Where had she found it?

And would she share it?

"Robin is all right, Cyborg," continued Starfire in that soft whisper; resting her hand over Cyborg's. The mere sounds of her voice seemed to wrap around Cyborg in a comforting way. "I cannot tell you any logical reasoning as to why I know this. All I can tell you is that there is a peace inside my heart that cannot be explained. I _know_ Robin is all right. He is safe; he is well; and soon everything will turn out for the good."

_How?_

_How does she know that? Where's the proof? Where's the sign of hope in that?_

_Where did she get that peace?_

"I… don't understand," said Cyborg, shaking his head once and drawing his eyes downward. He felt a hand touch his chin and slowly lift his head back upward. Starfire's eyes were shining with tears.

"Even I do not understand," said Starfire, her eyes glimmering once before a single tear slipped down her cheek. "All I understand is the peace that has settled in my heart. All I can ask is that you trust in this. I will give hope to Beast Boy and Raven as well. It is up to them to receive it."

Starfire's hand withdrew. She gave him a deep smile that was still filled with that peace – that knowledge from some source that Cyborg couldn't understand; couldn't see. She turned away from him and went to the couch where Beast Boy was curled up. Cyborg watched for a moment as Starfire lifted the small whimpering puppy into her lap and began to stroke his fur; murmuring softly in a gentle undertone.

'_It is up to them to receive it…'_

_It's up to me to receive it as well._

ooOOOOOoo

**February 22nd, 2009. Sunday, 11:45 pm.**

The chilled night air did nothing to cure Batman's mood. It had been snowing far too much for Batman's taste, but the heavy snowfall did make things a little quieter in Gotham. The past two nights had been quiet – far too quiet and it did nothing to improve his mood. He needed to beat somebody up and he needed to do so two weeks ago.

Meaning, it was _far_ overdue.

He took deep calming breaths that just did not do their job right.

Commissioner Gordon had related an interesting tale to Batman. It irritated him so much that he was having trouble controlling himself. Gordon had told him that yesterday, near Chicago, there were two high profile men that had been murmured – a wealthy senator and a well known crime boss.

However, a blatant calling card had been left on both corpses. The fatal bullet was perfectly clean within each and both bodies had been left at the local police station.

And there was a message on a clean white card on each body: _"Deathstroke pays his dues."_

Batman growled into the night as that thought flowed through his mind. He couldn't believe the sheer audacity that Deathstroke had. Here the man had stolen away a child and he was going around offing well known people. What the devil did that mean? _'Pays his dues'?_ Just who did Deathstroke think he was, anyways? How dare that man go about his business as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes Batman really wished he had never trained that kid. If he hadn't, then none of this would've happened. He'd be a normal kid in high school, going out for some sports club or chess club, or something or other. Batman shouldn't have given the kid private tutors. But he hadn't known what else to do. That boy had devoured knowledge like it was candy to him. Dick would've been bored in normal high school.

There were so many regrets inside Batman's chest. So many what ifs and so many should haves. He had been so confident, so cocky that he would find Dick quickly. It had only been a month since he had gone missing that Batman had felt that way – he had only imagined that he would find the kid quickly and make that monster pay.

How wrong he had been.

He was helpless – completely and thoroughly helpless. And Batman hated himself for it. Wasn't he supposed to be a protector of innocents? He was pathetic if he couldn't save that kid. He was responsible for him – but some guardian he was. He let the boy run off after their fight. He hadn't gone after him.

No lamenting of the past and only looking towards the future?

What a joke that was! Batman had _so_ _many_ regrets, it wasn't even funny. So many things he would do differently. So many things he would change. And the crowning feeling?

He couldn't help but blame himself for all this.

There was no peace for him. There would be no peace until that kid was safe again. Batman couldn't allow himself a moment's rest. If he did, his mind would be clouded over with all the thoughts that wanted to drown him and suffocate him. No matter how much he hated to admit it, Batman was only human – a human who had no powers; a human who was powerless here.

He just couldn't find rest for his soul.

Those words he had heard after the first clue from Commissioner Gordon had many times flooded into his mind once again; and hearing those trilling, lilting notes did sound vaguely familiar to him at times, but those words bore foolishness; bore weakness. He was a grown man; he knew reality when he saw it. _'Never give up hope.'_ What a morbid laugh that was. Hope wasn't going to save that kid. Hope wasn't going to bring Batman – or Bruce, for that matter – peace. There was only a twisting aching worry; _pain_, such _pain_ within his heart.

There was no respite for him here.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty: Puzzle Piece – Slade learns something earth shattering; completely infuriating him. Meanwhile, Dick tries to collect his feelings over the matter after eavesdropping on it.

**Author's Notes:** Dick's section was one of those chapters that were also written early on. I've always loved this section. I love how for the first time, Dick cries during a punishment – like a child. And that we see that he's accepted Slade's role over him, and yet, feels cheated to the point of deep emotional tears when he thinks the man is being unjust with him – something that just wasn't the case in the beginning, since Slade was always unfair before. There's always been something that I've loved about the whole scene. So precious to me.

LOL, but how many of you felt like Wintergreen? Sitting there helplessly, but was like, "Kiddo, you _did_ ask for it." I know I felt like that.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	40. Puzzle Piece

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for each and every review! I truly appreciate them all and love everyone's thoughts and opinions. :3

Oh my gosh! We're on chapter 40. I can't believe this. O.O

Hehe! None of you have to worry, you know. You can flame me until my eyebrows singe, but I'll never take offense in your words. ^^ I'll honestly be like, "Yay, thanks for reading and for reviewing! Least I got _some_ emotion out of you!" XD Ah, but I'm serious. Deadly serious here. I'm that comfortable in who I am and that happy and confident with my writing – and I mean that in a humble way. So, little things that analyze the story with your thoughts and feelings aren't bothersome or offensive, but enlightening to me. ^^ So, no worries there. If there's something that you don't like style wise in my writing or think I can improve, I'm more than happy to hear about it. I love hearing where I can improve because I don't always see it.

As for content, I'm pretty satisfied with it. Everything was thought out carefully to push forward the ending. _Everything_. Every detail that my brain could possibly process without exploding (sure feels like it at this point) was carefully designed. You've also probably noticed that my writing is clean and swear free, except for the brief violence areas. Hopefully, it's been a delightful story that has made you feel so many things.

And hopefully will make you feel so much more. :3

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty**

**Puzzle Piece**

**February 23rd, 2009. Monday, 7:06 am.**

Dick had been relieved once again when he saw Slade returned from his secret mission. Dick didn't ask the man anything about it. He figured he wouldn't like the answer, whether or not Slade gave him one, and he didn't feel like fighting with the man over it. They had different morals, different opinions, but so long as the man didn't force the worst one of all on Dick, then he would just leave it at that. Dick fully understood why Slade thought the way he did, but that didn't mean he supported it or had to follow it – or at least for now, anyways. But hopefully he would never have to.

Thank goodness for small miracles.

There was something anchoring about Slade when the man was in Dick's presence. Once more, Dick was trying to ignore the thoughts he was thinking about over this man, but the more they tried to insistently flutter at him in their trilling ways, the more he knew it was only a matter of time before he accepted them. If he did, though, he was emotionally bounded to the man. In his heart, there would be no leaving Slade. He'd always miss the special simple, even homey feel to this place.

Feelings that he had long missed and long needed.

But wasn't that what Slade wanted? Didn't the man want Dick to become emotionally attached to him? That way Dick wouldn't try to stop him anymore. Even if there ever came a point when Slade no longer needed him – no matter how much it destroyed Dick – there was just no way Dick would ever find himself able to fight against the man.

They were no longer just the Hero and the Villain in Dick's eyes.

But what of the Titans? How would they feel if they knew Dick would choose to stay with Slade? This was _Slade_, after all – the criminal they had tried so hard to stop. But Dick saw the man for so much more than that. There were so many layers to Slade and Dick preferred the human side far greater than anything. He respected that man so much. There were even times where he wanted to aspire certain traits from the man in himself.

It wasn't like Dick wanted to be the man's apprentice. He didn't want to be the criminal that Slade was trying to train him in becoming. He desperately wanted to stay here, but also be the person he wanted to be. He wanted to be a hero; he wanted to help others and not hurt them. But could that ever happen? Could he and Slade reach such an agreement? One where Dick was allowed to be in the man's life and learn from him, but also be the hero he always needed to be?

Well, as if that would ever happen.

But experiencing that special feeling of someone needing him was something that Dick himself needed to survive. After all, Batman had stopped needing him. Dick couldn't handle being thrown under the rug, so to speak. That's how he had felt with Batman. The first sign of danger and Batman was ready to give up on him; tossing him away so easily. Yes, Dick understood that the man had been, perhaps, protective over him, but that didn't mean Dick still couldn't be the man's partner and still be by his side, right? But it just didn't happen that way, leaving Dick far more worried about being left behind in more ways than one because of it.

But Slade wouldn't, right? He wouldn't stop needing Dick, no matter what, right? He'd protect Dick instead tossing him aside, wouldn't he?

There was no other apprentice better than Dick.

_Right?_

It was yet another morning where Dick was quietly eating his breakfast; cold cereal with a healthy sized plate of fruit. His thoughts kept him quiet; not really willing to talk much at that moment in fear that his feelings would come tumbling down on him in their crushing weight. Dick grabbed a slice of melon while he absently watched Slade read the newspaper.

The man was about to take a bite of his cream of wheat when he suddenly dropped the spoonful onto the floor with a splattering clatter. The man grabbed the paper with both hands as he stared at it intently. His hands shook against the paper and he slowly rose to his feet. Dick was slightly alarmed at the man's expression. There was a hint of betrayal, growing rage, and deep set sorrow inside the man's grey blue eye.

Then, in sudden snarl, Slade slammed the paper down onto the table and swore loudly. Dick's eyes bugged out and Wintergreen looked thoroughly appalled.

"_Slade!_" admonished Wintergreen, aghast. "Not in front of the child!"

Dick grabbed his orange juice and ducked his head as he took a sip. He was finding it mildly amusing that Slade had sworn, although he felt a little alarmed as well. He had never heard the man do that before – not even when Dick had pulled both crazy explosion stunts. And the man had been _fuming_ on both occasions.

But what could've made Slade so furious?

"_Shut up!_" snapped Slade as he snarled at Wintergreen, jabbing a sharp finger at the old man. He whirled around and marched out of the kitchen in a complete ranting rage.

"How dare that _woman!_ Wait until I get my—How dare she—Oh, when I—_Rrgrrrrrrr!_"

Dick apprehensively watched the man storm down the hallway. After he watched him disappear around the corner towards his bedroom, Dick turned his head to stare at Wintergreen. The old man looked momentarily stunned by the whole thing.

Dick looked over onto the table and grabbed the paper that Slade had thrown down. On the cover was an article about a sixteen year old girl winning the California State Science Fair. She was smiling with an almost smug look on her face as she held up the trophy she had earned. Dick frowned as he took a closer look at the photograph of the girl. She looked vaguely familiar, yet he knew he had never seen the girl before – it was something about her face structure. Her appearance was very unusual with her pure white hair; her eyebrows and even her eyelashes were pure white. Dick figured she had to be albino – he could see the violet red eyes somewhat in the photograph.

With a shrug, he set the paper aside and picked at his breakfast.

"What do you think is the matter with Slade?" asked Dick, looking up at Wintergreen after a moment. The old man looked at Dick and gave him a concerned expression.

"I don't rightly know. Be a dear and go find out, will you?"

"While he's in that rage? _No, thank you_," said Dick with a decidedly firm shake of his head.

"Oh, please; he's not going to _hit_ you – you know that," said Wintergreen with a light smile; leaning an elbow onto the table surface.

"No, but he might resort to that more embarrassing way that you put him up to," retorted Dick. He shuddered and shook his head. "Not happening this early in the morning, thank you."

"Oh, but you can spare a swat or two in the name of curiosity, can't you?" asked Wintergreen with a wry, mischievous grin. Dick gave the old man an incredulous look.

"Why don't _you_ sacrifice _your_ hide, old man?"

"Keep that up and Slade will be the least of your problems," said Wintergreen with a dangerous smirk. "Now go on, spare me the dramatics and go see what's got Slade into a tizzy."

"A _tizzy?_ More like a rampage," contradicted Dick, slowly getting to his feet.

"Go on, get!" snipped Wintergreen, clapping his hand once and pointing to the hallway; that smile still ever so dangerous. Dick hurried away, not liking the glint in the old man's eyes. He took a deep breath as he walked down the hallway. It wasn't like he was nervous. Not at all.

_Yeah, right_.

But he seriously hoped that Slade wouldn't be too mad at him for bothering him. It was obvious that the man was absolutely furious about something. But he had only been looking at a newspaper. What was so infuriating about that article?

As Dick reached the man's bedroom door, he hesitated. He didn't really want to knock and let Slade know he was there. The man would only snarl and hiss at him, _probably_. Quietly, Dick turned the knob of Slade's bedroom door and cracked it open. Slade's furious voice flooded into the hallway immediately.

"—_dare you!_ How _dare_ you!" Slade was screeching at someone – shouting terribly in his fury. Dick cracked open the door more to see Slade standing at his computer desk. He was leaning a hand on the desk as he glared up into the screen. Dick was shocked to see that Slade was talking with a woman on that computer screen.

"You're out of our lives, Slade. You have _nothing_ to do with us anymore," snapped the woman spitefully. Dick eyed her carefully, gauging her to be in her late fifties. She had dark brown hair – probably dyed, since there was no grey hair – and deep green eyes. Her expression was just as furious as Slade's.

"_I, at least, have some right to know if my daughter is still alive!_" snarled Slade at the top of his voice. Dick sucked in his breath; feeling as if the wind had been blown out of his lungs.

_Slade's daughter is still alive? Rose is still alive?!_

"You don't have _any_ rights!" cried the woman. "You destroyed everything. How could you, Slade? What was so important that it had to cost us _everything?_"

_So, the woman on the screen… must be Slade's ex-wife, Adeline. _

"Oh, _yes_," snarled Slade sarcastically. "I _planned_ it all out. I _planned_ for Grant to be murdered, for Joey's voice to be stolen, for Rose to be blown up or to disappear. _Yes, I planned it all!_ Blast it, Addie – you know that's a crock!"

Slade pushed himself off the desk and jammed his hands onto his hips. He turned his head away as he let out let a huff-like sigh. There was stilled silence between the two of them as it seemed like their tempers deflated completely. After another moment, the woman spoke up again.

"It's Sadie now," whispered Adeline. Slade turned to look back at her.

"What?" asked Slade, matching her tone.

"She goes by Sadie Roeslyn now. She's changed… ever since then," said Adeline, her voice sounding so broken and torn. "She's detached from me and Joey. She's been so distant all these, almost as if her soul died. And then, she moved out two years ago."

Adeline's expression changed swiftly back into full blown hate towards Slade.

"This is all your fault!" cried Adeline hysterically, pointing at him once and setting a hurt, yet enraged look onto the man. "If you hadn't been so selfish in your choices, then none of this would've happened! She's _changed_, Slade. Into something… it's almost frightening. But I'm so thankful for one thing – she has powers, but she refuses to use them."

"You should at least let me see her once."

"_No!_" screamed Adeline so fiercely that the speakers distorted. Dick flinched at the terrible tone. "You are _not_ to see her. She does _not_ want to see you and _I_ don't want you seeing her either. You made your choices, Slade. Now you have to pay the consequences of such things. Don't call me again."

The screen went black.

Dick scrambled away from the door, shutting it, before leaning against the wall; breathing heavily.

He couldn't believe he had just done that. He had eavesdropped on Slade's private – _very private_ – conversion with his _ex-wife!_ What the _freaking heck_ was he thinking?! Well, it was obvious that he hadn't been. His beating heart would not calm down. He had to calm down. If Slade found out…

Dick flushed deeply; his stomach churning with apprehension. Oh gosh, he prayed Slade wouldn't find out. The man would kill him – wale it into his hide good for this and Dick seriously wanted to go just a _little_ longer than two days in between incidences, thank you very much.

But then, it felt as if something died inside his heart.

Dick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying very hard to calm himself down.

There was something else going on inside Dick's heart and he wasn't quite sure what it was. It was as if the beginning of a terrible storm was building inside his chest. He was actually feeling somewhat irritated over the whole thing. He just couldn't understand why.

Suddenly, the door opened and Slade stepped out. He looked momentarily startled when he saw that Dick was standing there. A calm swept over Dick and his expression went blank; everything dying inside. Slade's eye narrowed as he folded his arms and sent a stern glare at Dick.

"How long have you been standing there?" demanded Slade. "Did you listen in?"

"Not long and no, sir," lied Dick. He wasn't sure what was coming over him. He never could lie easily without detection and especially to Slade. "Will sent me to find out what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," muttered Slade, turning his head away; his chest heaving once.

"I see. Well, I'm going to my room for a bit, sir," said Dick evenly. Before Slade could say anything to that, Dick whirled around and walked to his room; slamming the door a bit too hard behind himself.

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.

A tempest of emotions blew madly inside Dick. He couldn't control them. There were so many different feelings that rose up inside his heart, he could barely keep track of them. Mixture of fear, anxiety, anger, betrayal, jealousy and many more rushed through his soul in a terrible overwhelming wave.

There were so many, Dick nearly reeled at the door from their overpowering weight. They were so strange, his feelings. He just couldn't sort them out. He wasn't sure why he was feeling anxious or angry or betrayed or jealousy or fear – but he was. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to jealous of, nothing to feel betrayed from, nothing to be angry over, nothing to feel anxious over – there was nothing at all.

But then, he realized the source of his feelings.

And then, a wave of self hate flowed through him.

He hated himself for feeling these feelings. Why should he feel jealous? He should be happy, _thrilled_ for Slade that his daughter survived. Rose was _alive!_ He had never begrudged someone like this before. Why was he feeling this way? Why was he feeling afraid? Was he worried that Slade would choose his living, real child instead of him?

Dick curled his arms around his chest and slid down to the floor. Why was he even thinking like that? What was he expecting from Slade? To be his father now? But that was stupid. Slade could never be his father. His father, John Grayson, was dead. No one could take his place. Dick could never have another father; could never have someone to care for him like that; could never have someone to lean on, to learn from, to look up to; to tell him everything was going to be all right – _to love him_.

_Right?_

Dick dropped his head into his knees; breathing deeply.

But that was exactly the feeling that he had been trying run away from; to hide it away deep inside his heart. Now the fear was completely tearing him apart and that solitary single feeling could now rise unobstructed throughout his soul. That one crazy, amazing thought that had been constantly trying to overtake him the past few days.

He wanted Slade to be his father.

But it could never be.

This was his fault, though, for letting such a feeling rise inside his heart. Dick had let Slade manipulate his feelings. This was what the man wanted, wasn't it? A loyal apprentice; a loyal heir; a loyal partner. But being that didn't mean that Slade would be the same in return. He was just a tool to the man, wasn't he? There was no way Slade could've developed any type of fatherly feelings for him.

A shuddering sob burst from Dick's lips before he could stop it. He clamped his mouth down viciously; forcing back any other sobs that wanted to break free. He wasn't going to cry over this. He couldn't. He had to remain strong. Oh, _why_ did he have to get attached to the freaking man? The Titans would never be able to understand it – _he_ didn't even understand it.

It was the strangest thing ever. Dick just couldn't understand it himself. But there was no denying that he still had felt those overwhelming feelings of abandonment when he had thought Slade had died. He couldn't bear it if Slade abandoned him; if the man didn't need him. Even though Slade had reassured Dick that he was still needed, the man hadn't known Rose was still alive at the time. There was a great possibility that the man would choose her instead.

And that would just prove how nobody truly wanted Dick anymore.

Dick rubbed his face in his legs. No, he couldn't think like that. That was stupid, degrading thinking. He had to think more positively – had to think like Starfire. She would see all his good points. His friends still wanted him, right? Surely they knew he hadn't just left them on his own.

He had to push that wistful, impossible wish away. He couldn't hope for the impossible – it would only tear away his soul, making him go completely insane. There was no way Slade could ever be his father and that was that.

Impossible things could never happen.

That didn't mean it didn't break his heart, though.

Dick could feel hot beads of tears begin to seep from his clenched eyes. He rolled forward and got to his feet; hurrying to lie face down onto his bed. He buried his increasingly wet face into the soft pillow.

There he let the silent sobs rack his body.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 23rd, 2009. Monday, 7:22 am.**

Slade strode into the kitchen, still feeling outraged at Adeline and betrayed that the woman had kept such an important secret from him. His daughter, _his precious little girl_, had been alive _all this time_. There was a huge torrent of conflicted feelings over that. He desperately wanted to see her, but he understood that he no longer had that right.

It heartened him that she was alive, but sickened him that he had missed seeing her grow up. At least with Joey, he had kept tabs on him. He had so many pictures of his dear son, they could wallpaper the entire Titans Tower. But he couldn't understand how he hadn't seen Rose at all in those pictures. Slade had watched Joey grow up, but only as an observer from the sidelines. He couldn't be involved in his son's life anymore.

He had lost that right.

Slade sat down in a chair slowly, grabbing the newspaper with the picture of his daughter. She was beautiful – simple as that. She resembled him quite a bit, but the whitened features changed her appearance greatly from what she had looked like as a little girl.

"Slade, what's going on around here?" asked Wintergreen, sounding slightly exasperated. "What on earth got you into such a rage?"

Slade looked up, forgetting that the old man was still at the table. Slade wordlessly handed him the paper. Wintergreen accepted it and looked down. After a moment, he looked up.

"This…?"

"That is Rose," said Slade in a low undertone.

"_Sarah Rose?!_" cried Wintergreen; his eyes snapping back down to look at the paper. "By the stars above… It is her… But how…?"

"Apparently she lived through the explosion," said Slade, his voice void of any emotion. "Caused some physical changes, but that's her. That's Rose… All grown up."

"You called Adeline?"

Slade nodded.

"My word… So beautiful," murmured Wintergreen. "I always knew she would be a pretty little thing when she grew up. I always said you'd need a shotgun to keep the boys away."

Slade chuckled; sounding almost injured.

"Grant and Joey were more than glad to volunteer in the job of guarding their little sister," said Slade quietly. "Do you remember the time when she first went to preschool?"

"Oh, yes!" said Wintergreen with a remembering smile. "There was that nasty little Porter boy. Vicious little thing. Didn't he antagonize Sarah Rose?"

"He did," smirked Slade, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. "Grant and Joey were so furious with him, I was afraid they were going to sneak off together and attack him. It's one thing to fight your enemies, but a four year old boy just doesn't know any better."

"Well, it's not like she needed any help," said Wintergreen, his face still brightened with a smile. "Such a little spitfire she was."

"Just like her mother," murmured Slade, his eye darkening; his mood failing. He looked away for a moment, pensive.

Wintergreen frowned suddenly.

"Slade, where's Richard?" asked Wintergreen, glancing down the hallway for a moment. "I sent him after you to see what was wrong."

"He said he was going to his room for a bit," said Slade with a shrug. Wintergreen began to look concerned.

"Did he walk in on your conversation with Adeline?"

"He had better not," said Slade, raising an annoyed eyebrow. "He told me he didn't."

"What if he lied?" asked Wintergreen. A dark light entered Slade's eye.

"Then, he's off to a bad start today, isn't he?" said Slade in a suggestive tone. "Although, I'm surprised if that's true; that he was able to manage it. He's normally a terrible liar – at least to me."

Slade stood up from the kitchen table and made his way to the hallway.

"Don't be too hard on him if he did," called Wintergreen after him.

"Listen in if you're so worried," said Slade, glancing once to smirk at the old man before turning back to his walking.

Slade strode to the boy's room; but when he reached the door, he paused for a minute. He should knock, even though he normally didn't feel the need to. The two of them were beginning to develop the feeling of familiarity. It would be better if he knocked, even if he was coming in to find out about the boy's behavior.

Thus, he knocked.

There was no answer.

"Dick, I'm coming in," said Slade. He had knocked, but he wasn't going to wait for an answer. He opened the door to see the boy scrambling up from off his bed. The boy made a mad dash to his face with an arm; swiping it quickly. Slade frowned slightly for a moment. The boy's eyes were red.

Had Dick been crying?

Slade walked over to the desk and slipped into the chair. He leaned an elbow on the desk's surface as he stared at the boy. He was acting strangely, but Slade wasn't sure exactly what was wrong.

"Dick, what's up?" asked Slade pleasantly. Dick's expression was classic – his face scrunched up in disbelieving, incredulous stare. Slade fought back a chuckle at the sight. He sobered, though. "What's the matter? You look unhappy."

The boy shook his head softly and remained silent.

"Answer me. I'm not here to have a conversation with myself," said Slade, keeping his tone firm, yet soft. There was a small noise from the boy before he pushed himself to the edge of the bed. Then, he let out a deep sigh. Slade raised an eyebrow. The boy completely looked like the world had ended.

"Dick, what is the matter with you?" asked Slade, completely puzzled and exasperated. There was another moment of quiet before the boy finally opened his mouth.

"Look, I get it, all right?" whispered Dick, his tone bitter. He gave out a tired sigh of defeat. "You won, okay? Are you happy now? Is that what you've been waiting to hear all this time? You won."

_What on earth is this boy talking about?_

Slade watched as a deep pain entered Dick's startling blue eyes. He almost looked beaten down by something. Confusion was the thing that settled inside Slade. Why on earth was the boy acting like this? Hadn't things changed now? What could've brought this sudden depression upon him?

"I… I care about you now," said Dick in a terribly soft whisper. Slade had to strain to hear the boy's voice and was startled by what he was hearing. "Was that your goal all along? To get me to like you, care about you so I won't stop you anymore? Well, you won. It's fine. I won't…" Dick's chest heaved in a deep sigh. "I won't try to stop you. Just… Just don't hurt innocent people and I won't stop you. You can send me back now. The Teen Titans officially won't try to stop you. We'll look the other way."

Slade wanted to retort about how cute Dick was to actually _think_ that the Teen Titans could actually pose any threats to him, especially if he _really_ wanted something. But he held back; truly hearing what the boy was saying.

Why was Dick sounding as if he thought… It was as if Dick thought Slade was going to discard him or something. Where did he get a strange idea like that? What on earth was going through that boy's head?

"Dick," began Slade, still unsure how to proceed with this. "What are you talking about? You're acting as if you're going back to the Titans."

"Where else am I gonna go?" shrugged Dick despondently. "Batman fired me. I at least have to try and apologize to my friends about the whole Red X mess. If they don't forgive me…"

"If they don't, then they never were really your friends," commented Slade in a light tone. Dick just shrugged again and glanced down. Slade sighed and shook his head. He let a wry smirk spread through his features.

"What makes you think you'll be able to escape? You haven't been able to yet," drawled Slade.

"It's not like you'll need me anymore," murmured Dick.

Slade was getting tired. Hadn't he just reassured the boy that he still needed him? The boy had even thrown that ridiculous tantrum over it. Surely he had made himself perfectly clear on the whole matter. Slade just didn't have the patience for a wild goose chase. What could've brought on such behavior? Why was the boy so moody? Sure he was a teenager with all those annoying new hormones that came with puberty, but Grant hadn't been _this_ bad.

"Enough of this, Dick. Out of with it," said Slade, his chest rising once in his confusion. "What on earth are you talking about it? What gave you such an idea that I won't, as you say, _need_ you anymore?"

"Nothing…" muttered Dick.

"This moodiness will cease at once, Dick," snapped Slade. "My patience is wearing thin with this cryptic nonsense you're going on about. Out with it already."

"_No_," whispered Dick.

Slade's eye narrowed darkly.

"Excuse me—_Did you just say 'no' to me?_" asked Slade in a deadly tone.

"Yes, sir," whispered Dick; still not looking up at him. Slade was officially confused. Was the boy testing him again? He thought they had gotten passed all this nonsense. It had been almost a month since the boy had pulled that stupid testing of his trust stunt. Was he doing it again?

"Have explanation for your behavior or are you just itching for an educational trip over my knee?" asked Slade sardonically. Dick gave another despondent shrug. Slade raised his eyebrow. When did the boy become so self destructive? Normally, Dick would stiffen up and in a rush to appease Slade after such a threat.

Something _very_ strange was going on.

"Dick, you have ten seconds to explain yourself or I will execute my threat," said Slade, bringing out the sternness in his tone. There was no response from the boy. Moments passed – seemingly ten seconds – until the boy stood up and faced Slade; standing directly in front of him. Slade was absolutely astonished by this act of compliance from the boy.

Dick's eyes were cast down, but Slade could still see into them. Something inside Slade's heart stirred when he saw the look within them. There was an endless amount of despair and hopelessness in those deep, crystal blue eyes. It was as if there was no life in those orbs; just an endless death of light. They were void of all everything. Not even the day after Dick's mask had been removed had his eyes held this look. There was something far more inside them now.

A loss of something precious.

Slade sighed deeply. "Dick, sit back down."

A small light of confusion entered the boy's eyes before he obeyed; walking back and sitting gently on the edge of his bed.

"Aren't you going to…"

"As much as I am thoroughly irritated by your behavior right now," began Slade sternly, but he softened his tone a bit before continuing. "I am more so confused and would _very_ much like a proper explanation."

Again, Dick reacted in his usual annoying manner: he shrugged.

Slade was at his breaking point. What on earth could be going on in that head of his?

"Dick, _please_," said Slade; tiredly rubbing a hand over the fur on his chin. "I am at the end of my rope here. You have to talk to me or I can't figure out what is going on. Why are you so miserable?"

Dick shook his head.

"Everything's fine, sir," said Dick quickly in a very low, flat voice – almost robotic.

Slade fought back a growl. Where was the boy with fire? With spirit? With eagerness? With hope, desire, cheerfulness, happiness? Where on earth did that boy go? How could Slade get that special child back?

"Stand up. Get over here," said Slade, his tone going sharp. Dick's eyes widened suddenly; fear flooding into them.

_Oh, so when he's in charge of when I can punish him, he's okay with it. But when I command it, he's all scared and hesitant. Why am I not surprised?_

"Move it!" snapped Slade. Dick jumped and fluidly stood up. He dragged his feet as he walked to him. Slade grabbed him firmly by the arms and turned him to the side. He landed a hard strike to the boy's backside – there was a sharp intake of breath from the boy – before swiftly turning him back to face him.

"Now, we can keep this up," said Slade, giving the boy a firm shake. "I grow exceptionally tired of this moody game you're playing. You better explain yourself before we make a day of it and I warm your hide until dinnertime."

Ah, the boy's eyes couldn't go any wider at that.

"Oh, yes," said Slade, holding back a smirk as he latched onto what he hoped would make the boy more receptive in talking. "I have _all_ day to have at your backside until you talk. You remain silent; I have at you. You talk; I listen. It's as simple as that. Don't make this hard on yourself."

Dick's face fell into a scowl and he squirmed in Slade's tight hold.

"Just leave me alone," murmured Dick. "Let me go."

"It speaks!" cried Slade in mocking. Dick glowered at him, but Slade gave the boy one hard shake. "Lose that face." Thus, Dick's face fell into a moody pout. Well, that was better than before.

"Ten seconds to decide," said Slade, his eye glinting warningly. "Ten seconds or this'll be the start of a very _long_ and _sore _day for your hide."

Dick's lips trembled.

So, he _was_ nervous. Good. Slade at least was getting _some_ reaction out of the boy.

"Nine, eight, seven, six," started Slade, counting decisively. He really didn't want to have to do this, but the boy honestly wasn't giving him any choice now. The more the boy got into trouble, the more Slade disliked having to discipline him. Why couldn't the boy just obey? There was almost a hint of disappointment inside Slade's heart when he had to deal with the boy like this. Surely not, though.

Dick's lips began to tremble so hard that he bit his lower lip in order to steady it.

"Five, four, three."

The boy's chest rose up and down as his breathing quickened.

"Two, one—"

"_All right!_" cried Dick desperately. Slade stilled; hoping the boy would finally say something of understanding. "All right, I–I listened in on your conversion!"

Slade's eye narrowed.

"You did _what?!_" breathed Slade.

"I–I listened at the d–door," stammered Dick. "I heard everything, okay? I know your daughter is still alive. I'm–I'm sorry about eavesdropping.

_Oh, you will be…_

"Look, I get it, all right?" continued Dick, before Slade could scold him for eavesdropping and lying to him about it. The boy's voice cracked under the obvious strain of his emotions. "I understand if you want her instead, okay? I understand if you don't need me anymore to be your apprentice or heir. I get it."

Slade paused. He was getting more confused by the moment. What did Rose being alive have anything to do with wanting Dick as his apprentice?

"I understand if you want your real daughter," murmured Dick, his voice dropping to a low whisper. His thoughts spilled from his mouth in a continuous stream of whispers, as if to himself. "I get it. I'm used to anyways. Just stop with me, already. I can't take this anymore. I'm gonna go crazy; getting crushed with all these freaking _feelings_. I'm sick of this rollercoaster I feel I'm on. I'm such an idiot for letting you manipulate my feelings like this. Shows how weak I really am. I just want to go back to my life. Just let me go back already. You won, all right?"

Slade's grip on the boy's arms lessened in surprise as he heard Dick's words. Was the boy stressed again? But over what? Everything had been going perfectly well. So much that Slade had even allowed the boy to come with him on a contract. Yes, it had been a little _traumatic_ and bit of a mess, but Slade thought the boy was made of stronger stuff than that.

Had he been wrong? Surely not. The boy was filled with fire and spirit. He was strong. But honestly, what on earth was going on in that boy's head?

There was a sharp intake of breath in Slade's ear. Oh, good. Wintergreen was listening. Oh, blessed day. Finally, _someone_ understood _something_ around here. Maybe if he shared with the rest of the class, they could get to the _bottom_ of this stupidity and not have to wallop the child's to find out.

"Slade, he's feeling insecure," came Wintergreen's reverent voice. "He's worried that you'll replace him with Sarah Rose – that you won't need him anymore."

This was utter nonsense. What could've given the boy such a ridiculous idea?

The boy was feeling… jealous? Slade's eye widened involuntarily. The boy was feeling _jealous?_ How could that have happened? Slade figured that the boy had grown attached to him over the recent weeks; especially after he saw the boy actually _crying_ over his supposed death.

But the boy was feeling possessive and worried about his place with him.

Slade nearly reeled at that. He was baffled – thoroughly baffled to no end. Had he really reached this point with the boy? Had Robin, the Boy Wonder, truly grown _that_ attached to him, Slade the deadly mercenary assassin; archenemy to the Boy Wonder?

Stranger yet, Slade had felt a small – _very small!_ – feeling of fondness over the boy – if he admitted it. The past six months with the boy had brought out so many feelings that he had long buried in his heart over eight years ago with the destruction of his family. Dick was resurrecting long forgotten knowledge that had once been second nature to Slade.

Knowledge of a father.

"Let me get this straight," started Slade slowly; tightening his grip on Dick's arms. "You think that because my daughter is alive, that I would rather have her as my apprentice and heir. Is that what you're thinking?"

There was a long quiet, motionless moment. Then, Dick gave a tiny nod of confirmation.

"That," started Slade, "is the _biggest_ load of crap I've _ever_ heard."

There was another sharp intake of breath in Slade's ear. He held back a smirk at the old man's shock. Dick's eyes widened in surprise. Then, confusion set in.

Slade firmly pulled the boy closer to him so that his legs were touching Slade's knees. He pulled him down so that Dick was forced to leaned down towards his face. Merely a few inches away, Slade looked directly into those crystal blue eyes that were filled with so much longing.

"Listen carefully. I want _you_ as my apprentice. No one else. Even if Grant were still alive, I would've been drawn to your exceptional skills and abilities. You are unique. You are special." Tears began to fill in the edges of Dick's ever widening eyes. "You are extraordinary. You are a prodigy. You are strong. You are intelligent. Why on earth _wouldn't_ I choose you?"

Dick visibly swallowed.

"Answer my question."

The boy swallowed again; no longer blinking as his eyes began to glisten even further with his tears.

"I–I don't know," whispered Dick, his voice heavily cracked with emotion.

"_You don't know?_" asked Slade incredulously, releasing the boy's arms to fold his own; his eyebrow rising as well. "Then, why even suggest that I'm planning to replace you? That is utter nonsense. I haven't gone to all this trouble just to toss you out at the sight of a 'shinier' recruit. You're such an oddity, you know that? Five months ago, you were chomping at the bit to escape and now you act as if you're worried you might be forced to leave? You really are—"

Slade was cut off as he was enveloped by the boy's arms. They wrapped themselves around his neck as the boy's head settled into the nape of his neck. Shock rippled through Slade. The boy was… _hugging_ him? No, that couldn't be. That just couldn't be possible. It was absurd, thoroughly and completely _absurd_.

But there he was, arms curled around Slade's neck. It was a hug. The Boy Wonder was _hugging_ Slade, Deathstroke the Terminator – _of his own free will_. Now _that_ was the most mystifying thing to have ever happened to Slade.

A soft whisper murmured in his ear.

"_Thank you_."

Another stirring swelled inside Slade's heart. Had his words really been all that touching to spur such an impulse from the boy? He hadn't said anything too out of the ordinary. Slade had merely said truth to the boy. What was so emotional about that?

Well, whatever made the boy reach the point of actually reaching out and hugging him, Slade wasn't going to push him away. That was obviously the last thing the boy needed right now. So, Slade unfolded his arms and patted Dick gently on the back with a hand.

"Oddity doesn't even begin to describe you," muttered Slade; yet a smile tugged at the side of his mouth.

The arms tightened around his neck briefly. A soft warmth flowed from those small arms. It felt so strange being hugged by a child. It had been over eight years since Slade had been hugged by one of his children. There was something so sacred, so special, so _innocent_ about a hug from a child.

It brought quite a few old emotions to the forefront of Slade's mind.

"All right, enough of this," said Slade, after a few moments of amusing the boy in his hug. Dick withdrew slowly, wiping an eye roughly with the back of his wrist. His eyes were reddened slightly from the effort of withholding his tears.

Slade reached up and carefully clasped the boy's cheek with a hand, wiping away a stray, traitorous tear with his thumb.

"No more tears," said Slade in a soft undertone. "There's nothing to cry about right now. Cry when there is."

Dick had been startled by Slade's hand, but he nodded quietly to the request; relaxing visibly. Then, after Slade withdrew his hand, he sent a firm glare on the boy, who stiffened slightly beneath it.

"_Now_, on to the matter of eavesdropping that was recently and sneakily committed," said Slade, his eye glinting suggestively. Dick's face crinkled up sheepishly.

"I'm sorry?" tried Dick in a soft whisper.

"Mmm… Yes, you will be," said Slade. Dick scrunched his eyes closed expectantly. Slade smirked. He stood up, giving the boy just another moment to endure in worry before placing a hand on his mop of raven black hair. He ruffled the hair as Dick's eyes popped open in surprise. Slade leaned down to the boy's ear, putting some of his weight down so that the boy hunched from it.

"Don't do it again."

Dick blinked for a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Slade clasped the boy firmly by the chin with his spare hand and forced Dick to look up at him from the side. A sharp light entered Slade's visible eye.

"And if you _ever_ lie to me again, you will live to greatly _regret_ it," said Slade silkily in a dark whisper. "Do I make myself clear?"

Fear and perfect understanding filled the boy's glistening eyes. He nodded rapidly.

"Y–yes, sir," stammered Dick with a squeak.

"Good boy."

The boy smiled at that. Slade wasn't sure why that would bring a smile to his face, but it did. It was always strange that little snippets of praise brought such a reaction to the boy.

Very strange indeed.

"All right, then. I'm going back to finish what's left of my probably now cold breakfast," said Slade with a smirk, his hand still laced through the boy's hair. "Are you coming?"

"I'll be there in a minute, sir," said Dick with a bright smile.

"Well, all right, then," said Slade, ruffling the boy's hair once more before turning away and walking out of the room. The boy was still smiling brightly as he left.

Such a strange child indeed.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-One: Change in Destiny – Sometimes, the impossible can occur; hearts can move in ways like no other; and thus, Dick comes to a realization and is at full peace with it. Meanwhile, Slade is plagued by a single thought of his own and comes to a huge decision.

**Author's Notes:** Ah, Slade swearing is the funniest thing ever. LOL, and every time I read that line where Slade's like, "That is the _biggest_ load of crap I've _ever_ heard." I die. It's so hilarious to me. I feel like drawling at the man and saying, "_Geez_, way to be _sensitive_, Slade." But then he redeems himself in the only way that Slade can do so. ^^

And then the hug. A _child's_ hug, mind you. *melts happily* _So sweet_. Haha! I have achieved a hug with Dickie and Slade in a non slash environment! Yes, you may now fangirl with me. XD

Alrighty then. I don't think any one of you can be more excited for the next chapter than I am. _That is a fact_. :3

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	41. Change in Destiny

**Author's Note:** *giggles* That's it. I'm gonna engrave each and every review now. XD (Or a least plaster my walls with them) Thanks for all of them. I _do_ read every single one – even more than once most of the time. ^^ So, thank you so much!

To a **Guest**: I am proud to say that I have _not_ read that particular story, although I know of it. I saw the description and knew right away that was a _**nope**_ for me. O.o I will say that – in my humble opinion – any author that glamorizes the attacking of another human being in such a way and then has the victim fall in love with the attacker doesn't really understand the true horrific, defiling nature of what it means to be harmed in that way. It's not an act of love, but an act of cruel power and it's truly sad to see stories like that – in all fandoms.

And I'm glad you're enjoying the father and son journey between Slade and Dick, because throughout all my readings on FF, I had yet to find a true story that satisfied this – and I ended up becoming frustrated with it all. Thus, Forgotten Bonds and Warped Identity came to be. :3

And now, I am _so_ beyond excited—can't even tell you. I _cannot_ tell you how _long_ I have been awaiting this chapter. This chapter is the fruit of all the hard work put into the plot in past chapters. Oh, how the impossible is so very possible. I'm about to shake _everything_ you've ever known about Apprentice fics; and oh, it's just the _beginning_. There's still so much left to go.

_Heh_, _ikuzo_.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One**

**Change in Destiny**

**February 23rd, 2009. Monday, 7:57 am.**

Dick sat down on the edge of his bed, his thoughts racing wildly – still unable to wipe the smile from off his face.

He couldn't believe it. He had _hugged_ Slade – he had actually hugged the man. It had been totally impulsive, too. If he'd given himself a second to think, he probably wouldn't have allowed himself to do that.

But he was glad he did. It had been so long since he had hugged anyone. There was something special about hugs and Dick had always loved them; _craved_ them more than anything in the world. The warmth of another human being in his arms always brought the ultimate of comforts to Dick. But living with Bruce, he had never received anything like that from the man – not once. It wasn't until he met his friends, the Teen Titans, that he started to experience hugs again.

They had been long missed.

Everything had been so overpowering – Slade's words had shaken him so much that he couldn't help but wrap his arms around the man and show him the only way Dick knew to offer his thanks – his gratitude for those soft, kind words; for the reassurances the man gave him. No one had told him those things in nearly eight years. His mother and father had always said those kinds of things to him when he was a child, but after their deaths, such praise hadn't come easily – if at all.

'_You are unique.'_

Those words brought a deep stirring inside Dick's heart. Slade had really said that; the man thought Dick was unique. It had been the beginning of the man's complimentary line of phrases and it had completely grabbed Dick's attention. And Slade wasn't lying to him – Dick knew that much. The man told him he wouldn't lie to him. He might withhold information, but no lying.

'_You are special.'_

It was rare to hear such a compliment. That one had brought tears to his eyes. That one had stirred his heart so much he had wanted to cry until he dried up. He wasn't sure why the tears came so easily to him now after so many dry years, but it was okay – he was safe with Slade; safe with his tears. And he had a pretty good self esteem and understood his worth, but to hear it out loud from someone else – especially that someone being Slade – was just something amazing. His mother had always told him he was special; to hear it again after so many years had brought the tears.

'_You are extraordinary.' _

Dick couldn't help, but glow inside at that. It made him remember when he had first been brought here – the way the man had said that he was like a rare gemstone. That first compliment had been big to him, even if he had pushed it down inside.

'_You are a prodigy.'_

When Dick had lived and trained with Bruce, almost all the time the man would point out every failure and make him redo it until he got it right. But when he did, there was never a comment of 'well done' or an acknowledgement. But to be told that he was a prodigy was one of the best things Dick had heard in a long time. It was like Slade was acknowledging all the hard work Dick had ever accomplished in his life.

'_You are strong.'_

Dick was strong – he could admit that to himself. He was powerful in fights and could dominate his enemies very well. That much wasn't new. Still, to hear the compliment was reassuring. It just added to the entire effect of how much Slade valued his worth.

'_You are intelligent.'_

Slade had told Dick that he was intelligent all the time while he taught him his studies. But, once again, it just added and completed the entire set of compliments. It wasn't like Slade had never complimented Dick before – it was just the whole effect of his words. It was like the man expected Dick to know all these things, as if they had been obvious all along.

Still, Dick needed to hear them and hearing them brought a glow and peace to his soul that he hadn't felt in all these years.

Dick wasn't sure what to think now, but he felt unimaginably safe. He hadn't felt this level of safety and security since his parents had died. The comfort he felt with Slade was shocking. There was no stopping his feelings now. He was going to accept them, fully and completely. It didn't matter anymore.

It was okay.

Yet, he knew and understood who and what Slade was. But he somehow no longer cared about that. Slade wasn't just a criminal to him; he wasn't just some person that Dick fought against. Slade was an important adult in his life. Dick saw him for what he truly was; a complex man with a past, with feelings, and with motivations just like everyone else. Yes, the man had his faults – but everyone did. Perhaps, one day, the two of them could come to a compromise. It was very possible, wasn't it? While he really didn't want to be like Slade, in the form of his profession, he did still want to learn from him.

Maybe… just maybe, impossible things did happen.

Dick really wanted to continue learning from Slade. He greatly respected the man. Dick wasn't arrogant enough to think of him as a father – but he was, to be honest. And Slade acted just that now. He acted like a father.

Something swelled inside Dick's heart at the sound of that, everything aligning themselves perfectly. A deep, fluttering peace settled inside his chest and Dick couldn't help but smile. He could finally admit it to himself. He didn't mind thinking of Slade as a father. If he really thought about it, there was something about the man that reminded Dick about John Grayson. It was subtle, but it was there. And it seemed as if Slade was sliding into the role without even noticing. He was getting softer and softer with Dick every day.

Even warmer, perhaps. He was still strict, but he was getting more lenient with Dick. Like just now – he hadn't been punished for eavesdropping on something so big, when six months ago he would've been. When the man held him by the arms, it had been firm and yet gentle at the same time – as if he knew exactly how to show Dick how much strength was needed to hold him there and also show that he cared.

And Slade had actually ruffled Dick's hair – twice even. He had held his chin softly. Yes, it had been to warn Dick in a _very_ frightening manner about lying to him again, but the touch hadn't been threatening in any way. It had reminded Dick of the way his own father had dealt with him when he was young.

Dick smiled even more. He wasn't going to mention these feelings to Slade. The man probably wouldn't understand him. But that's okay. Dick would just hold them close to his heart. That's all he needed. He would treat Slade more like a father, although he was pretty sure he had already been doing so lately without even realizing it.

'_Perhaps now, but who knows. I just might become like a father to you.'_

Those words had irritated Dick six months ago. He had felt so aggravated that the man had the audacity to aspire to the role of father in his life. He was sure the man had only said it to provoke Dick, but what if the man had a buried desire to be a father again after what had happened to his family?

Now those words only made Dick smile at the memory. The first month had been hard – terrible. He knew it; he admitted it, but he no longer held the anger in his heart. Everything was long forgiven. Even though he hadn't been thrilled by it, when Slade had changed his tactic with him, it had opened that very possibility.

Slade really had become like a father to him.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 23rd, 2009. Monday, 8:00 am.**

Slade sat down at the table; not even acknowledging Wintergreen, who was sitting in a chair still slowly eating his breakfast.

It was the oddest thing – for the first time in a very long time, Slade felt as if he were in a complete stupor. The boy had been worried about being _replaced_. He didn't want to leave anymore. The boy wanted to _stay_ – the boy actually _wanted_ to stay here with Slade.

That was definitely a triumph on Slade's part, if he wanted to be arrogant about it. But he knew all too well that Dick's heart was the one that had been moved. Slade had nothing to do with it – the boy had grown to care about him this much all on his own accord. And somehow Slade's original intentions for the boy just didn't really feel all too important as much as seeing that boy smile. Slade was getting used to Dick – there was no doubt about that. There was a fondness there. The boy smiled at such simple things, it was astonishing how easy he was to please.

Something fluttered over Slade's mind; a single thought trilling in careful descent to the forefront. Slade raised an eyebrow at himself. Well, it wasn't like Slade wasn't fond of the boy, but to actually go that far seemed so farfetched considering everything. There was no way he could do such a thing with the boy – no matter how attached Dick was to him. It was so completely absurd that Slade tried to push it aside.

But it came back.

This was foolish thinking. There was just no need for such things; such _formality_. Slade wasn't one for things like that – _obviously_, since he had _kidnapped_ the boy. There was certainly no need to go to such extent; would be laughable, actually. After all, he had the boy in his possession and no one on earth could find them. Not even the cunning detective, that _bat_, could ever be able to find them.

Then again, it could show Dick just how serious Slade was about keeping him at his side.

But was Slade _this_ serious? It changed everything Slade thought about over the boy.

Slade was battered with his logical and skeptical side; brushing the foolish thought away. It wasn't like if Slade went to such an extent that it changed anything. It wasn't going to reassure Dick anymore than what Slade had done just now. Going to such lengths… Slade forced the thought away, determined to keep it at bay.

There was a flash of frustrated exasperation that Slade could have sworn did not belong to him.

That same trilling thought rose yet again to the surface of his thoughts. No matter how many times he tried to push it away, the fluttering thought was relentless in its presence within his mind.

This time the irritation that rose inside Slade was definitely his own.

Slade could feel a headache coming on. This was crazy – especially since Richard Grayson was famous and if Slade did something like this it would be front page news. It was just _paper_, after all. Such a document had no meaning and worth in Slade's plans. There was no need for this; no need to go to such an extent; no need—_Oh, besides_, it wasn't like the boy would agree to something like that.

Would he?

Yet, there seemed to be a peace that flowed over him; acknowledging that Dick just might agree.

Impossible.

"You're getting attached to the boy, aren't you?" asked Wintergreen, breaking through Slade's thoughts. The old man was smiling at him all too innocently. Slade frowned, not liking the way the old man seemed to figure things out too easily.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Slade in a dismissive tone, shifting uneasily inside his seat.

"There's nothing wrong with getting attached, you know," said Wintergreen, bringing his mug of coffee to his mouth. "It's human nature, after all. And Richard really is such a good kid; it's impossible not to become just a little attached."

Just how did the old man do it? There was no way Slade was going to admit anything out loud and especially not to this meddling old man. Slade's temper rose as he fixed a stern glare on the old man.

"There's no way," snarled Slade, "that I'm getting _attached_. He is my heir, my apprentice. Nothing more and nothing less."

"Whatever you say," said Wintergreen with a light smirk tugging at his lips.

The irritation completely overtook Slade and words harshly left his mouth.

"Now see here, Will," snapped Slade, pointing a stern finger at the old man. "I'm not getting attached to the boy and I never will. So, eat that for your breakfast, would you?"

Wintergreen was about to retort when Slade watched the old man go thoroughly pale; his aged eyes going wide as the color completely drained from his face. Slade was alarmed for a moment by the old man's sudden health change, when he noticed the direction of the man's eyes. Slade followed the gaze to see Dick standing in the hallway.

Slade seriously wanted to kick himself.

Bright blue eyes were wide with shock and despair; pools of tears were building until they overflowed once, a single stream sliding down the boy's face.

The boy whirled around and darted down the hallway; a door slam echoed through the hallway a second later.

"_Go after him_," came Wintergreen's frantic voice. But Slade hadn't needed the advice. He was already on his feet and down the hallway in mere strides; berating himself severely for his sharp tongue. He didn't bother to knock this time; he just opened the door.

Or at least tried to; there was something blocking the door. Slade pushed against it and found it moveable.

"Dick, move away from the door."

"_No._"

The answer was choked, yet defiant.

"Now, Dick. Move away from the door."

"_Make me_."

Slade wasn't really surprised by that belligerent answer. With a sigh, he pushed against the door. It moved slightly. With consistent force, Slade pushed the door open enough to slide through the opening. Dick was curled on the floor in his usual defensive position.

Slade sighed. He was getting too old for teen drama. Although, he knew this was entirely his own fault. He had opened his big, fat mouth and just undid everything he had built mere seconds ago. Of course the boy would feel hurt after hearing such things. Slade had been too irritated by the incessant thoughts he had been experiencing – plus that annoying, meddling old man – he hadn't considered the possibility of Dick overhearing anything he could say.

"Dick—"

"Look, I get it, okay?" said Dick flatly; his tone extremely bitter. "I'm happy that you just want me as your apprentice. That's great. Couldn't ask for more."

"Really?"

"_Yeah, really_."

"You seem to want more."

Dick scoffed and glared up at Slade; his eyes glistening, yet his face was completely clear of tears. Anger was pouring off the boy's face as his eyes looked at Slade with contempt.

"You're so full of it!" cried Dick. "You do one thing, but you say another. I thought you wouldn't lie to me. But that's all you've been doing, lying to me this whole time."

"I haven't lied," said Slade, his eye widening in his stern glare. "And you better mind your tongue."

"I don't care!" shouted Dick, bolting to his feet. Although, the boy's height was still over a foot shorter than Slade, so the result wasn't that all that effective. "You just lied to me!"

"In the kitchen, you mean?"

"_Yes!_"

"I wasn't lying to _you_, boy," said Slade, feeling annoyed by the boy's flippant emotions. "I was _lying_ to _Will_."

Dick opened his mouth to retort in anger, but he stopped suddenly; his eyes widening. He seemed to completely deflate at this.

"You…" Dick trailed off, blinking once; a stray tear sliding down his cheek.

Slade sighed and ran a hand over his face. This boy was going to be the death of him – that much Slade was sure of. If there was anything that could bring about his demise it would be this boy.

"Yes, I lied to Will," said Slade with a sigh. "He was… teasing me and I got annoyed."

Dick lowered his head slightly; his chest lifting into a deep breath before letting out slowly.

"_Oh_…" whispered Dick.

"You said that I lied – what made you think that?" asked Slade in a low voice.

Dick looked down and shuffled his feet for a moment; wiping the single tear afterward with the palm of his hand. After a moment, he glanced back up and Slade saw the infinite longing in the boy's eyes once again.

"Well, you did, right?"

That fluttering thought sent a wave of confirmation and peace throughout Slade; electrifying every sense in his soul. He knew right then and there the boy's answer to his earlier thought. The boy would very much agree. It was written in his eyes. That stupid, foolish, crazy, wonderful, _absurd_ thought would be agreed to – Dick would agree.

Slade was floored – completely shocked that he and the boy had reached such a point. It was thoroughly startling. He had never imagined this could happen and had certainly not been trying to get to this point.

But was that _really_ true? After so many years, had Slade not once ever thought of what was lost? Had he not imagined what it would've been like had he been given a second chance? Had he not mourned the past; wishing for a restart?

Was Dick his second chance?

Six months was a short amount of time, but they had come leagues in the distance.

It was very sobering.

Almost a miracle, if Slade actually believed in such things.

"I did," murmured Slade in response.

There was a long pause between them, until the boy finally spoke up in a quiet tone.

"_Good_," was Dick's only answer.

ooOOOOOoo

**February 26th, 2009. Thursday, 12:11 pm.**

Dick's head was spinning. It had been just a handful of days since he had eavesdropped on that fateful conversation. That whole morning had quite eventful.

But the real thing that was spinning his mind constantly was the fact that Slade had admitted that he had lied to Wintergreen. And the lie? That he wasn't attached to Dick.

Which meant…

Which led Dick to the very apparent conclusion that Slade _was_ attached to him. He wasn't just the apprentice anymore. Slade was attached; probably fond of him, more than just the apprentice; more than just the heir; more than just the partner – Dick was something far more than those now.

But what it was, Dick wasn't exactly sure. The man hadn't elaborated, obviously. But it didn't matter. The fact remained that Slade had some feelings of attachment. That probably meant that the man cared for him. Dick wasn't sure if he'd ever reach the point of being a son to the man, but it was no longer just a dream that Dick kept buried in his heart.

It was a very real possibility.

Which was why, Dick was very pleasant these past few days. He did his very best not to cross Slade. There were a few times that Slade looked completely perplexed. Dick held back his smiles. The man wasn't used to his _complete_ obedience. Dick had been obeying him more recently, but there was an eagerness now that he couldn't hide away – the eagerness to please.

It just didn't bother Dick to listen to the man anymore. The man was more than just a teacher or mentor to him now.

Now Dick actually _wanted_ to listen to him.

He enjoyed hearing the man's low, smooth voice instructing him. It no longer held that smug tone in it either. It felt warm to Dick. It made him smile more as he listened attentively to his studies. He also noticed that his studies were branching out into different areas – ones that Dick wouldn't have imagined Slade teaching him.

Like Slade was beginning to give him a basic education in working formulas, such as the healing serum that Slade had created. It was amazing how many formulas that Slade had invented. While Dick wasn't sure he was really interested in this kind of stuff, it was still somewhat fascinating.

Slade also stopped the education on guns. When Dick questioned this, Slade merely brushed it off, saying that there wasn't any need at this time and that Dick was decently proficient at it. Dick honestly couldn't understand what Slade had meant. Since when had the education on guns been a non-important matter? Since when was being 'decently proficient' good enough for Slade? It perplexed Dick to no end, but he didn't argue; thankful for the break from the objects. After watching Slade get shot, Dick was more than happy to never have to lay eyes on a gun again.

Another thing Dick was beginning to do more was settle himself near Slade during most of the time. If Slade was sitting on the couch, then Dick would plop into the seat right next to him. It was coming naturally to him now. He just couldn't help it. He just felt the need to be closer to the man. He noticed at first that Slade raised his eyebrow at such actions, but he was slowly beginning to get used to it.

It really was an amazing thing.

It was around lunchtime that Dick came into the kitchen, half starved. He had been in his room since breakfast, working on the formulas at his desk. Lunch was already prepared, but Wintergreen was nowhere to be found. Slade was sitting at the table, looking deeply pensive about something; staring at some papers that were in front of him.

"Where's Will?" asked Dick, taking the seat next to Slade and subconsciously sliding it a few inches closer to the man. Slade looked a little startled that Dick had entered. The man moved a hand over the papers and looked extremely hesitant about something. Dick tilted his head in question.

"Will is absent because there's something I want to discuss with you alone," said Slade, sounding reserved as he spoke, as if he were uneasy. Dick blinked in surprise.

"What about?" asked Dick.

Slade seemed to consider something for a moment. The man let out a deep, heavy sigh finally; still looking hesitant, but newfound resolve beginning to slide into place.

"This," said Slade, passing him the papers. Dick took the documents and his mouth dropped at the sight of them; his heart thumping wildly inside his chest.

They were adoption papers.

The papers were completely filled out with all the information. The only thing needed was Dick's signatures. Dick looked up at Slade in shock; his hands trembling slightly.

"You… You want to _adopt_ me?" breathed Dick in a soft voice, holding the papers carefully as if they were fragile; as if they would crumble beneath his fingers. He glanced back down at the papers and stared at them, unable to comprehend what was happening. He had thought that his feelings of wanting a father and son relationship with the man had been somewhat one sided. He hadn't _ever_ imagined that Slade would want to take the full step and offer to adopt him. That would mean, legally, Dick would be Slade's son.

"Well, yes. I was thinking about it," said Slade carefully, shifting in his seat for a moment.

_He's been thinking about this? _

Dick's eyes widened, shocked completely.

_He actually wants me… for a son? Not just an apprentice, not just an heir, not just some partner – but a son?_

Dick was amazed. Not even Bruce had ever presented him with adoption papers. Bruce had held full guardianship over him; thus, Dick had been the man's ward, but he had never been adopted. It had made him feel as if he were in limbo at times; like he never fully belonged anywhere.

But it wasn't as if Slade hadn't kept him in his home for six months – not like Dick could go anywhere anyways. Slade wasn't normally one for legal means, _obviously_. So, why was he going to such measures? Dick had already decided in his heart that he was going to treat Slade like a father – Slade could've done the same with Dick.

But Slade was going one step further.

"Everything is in order," continued Slade, still in his even tone, yet somehow Dick felt the man was being reserved. "I have some allies in high places that can make it go through without dealing with a judge or a hearing. It'll override Wayne's guardianship over you as well, with or without his approval."

Dick's heart stopped for a minute at that. That's right. He had completely forgotten about Bruce's opinion for a moment there. What would Bruce say about this? Well, that was obvious. He'd probably throw a fit.

But six months had passed. Dick had no way of being sure if Bruce was looking for him at all. He doubted he could handle it if he found out that Bruce hadn't. But Dick knew that Batman wasn't about to let Robin get kidnapped by a villain. However, even if he was looking for him…

What would he say if Dick Grayson actually _wanted_ to be Slade Wilson's son?

Throw out all the logic; ignore everything – what if Dick really wanted to be Slade's son? He'd have a father again – one that he was happy with; one that he trusted; one that he had grown to care about with all his heart. It didn't matter the thorns that the rose had, Dick was more than happy with it. Dick didn't mind the man's sharp thorns of his faults, now that he saw the velvet petals of his qualities.

After all, nobody was perfect and that was the true beauty of life.

But what about his friends? What would he say to the Titans when they heard about this? They would probably go crazy; _Robin_ getting _adopted_ by _Slade_, of all people! It was nuts! What would they think? How could he explain all this to them? How could he explain the soft, gentle process his heart underwent these months?

How could he explain anything to any of them?

But that wasn't the biggest thing that was stirring inside Dick. He glanced up at Slade, studying the man carefully. This was a man of many skills, thoughts, feelings, and desires; and Dick truly cared about him. There was no way he could've been convinced of that six months ago when Slade first captured him. But now Dick stayed because he wanted to – even though he couldn't leave. Yeah, it was weird. It was strange and conflicting to say, but Dick knew that even with a wide open door, Dick would still come home.

_Home_.

That's what this place felt like now. It truly had a homey, clean feeling and Dick liked that. He liked eating dinner with these two men – no, he _loved_ it. He loved the feelings he felt when he watched Slade and Wintergreen talking over dinner. There were times that the two of them sounded like best friends; sometimes they sounded like bickering brothers; while other times they sounded like father and son.

And Dick was the son and grandson. It was like they had become a family in some ways.

But Slade was still Slade. He was still the man that he was; he was still the hired mercenary. He was still the man that deeply desired Dick as his apprentice and heir in that area. But Dick truly didn't want that. He had other desires, dreams, and goals. He most certainly wanted to learn and train under this man, but becoming his apprentice as a mercenary wasn't really one of them.

But if the man wanted it, in a way, Dick couldn't deny him. In some ways, it was still the thing that told Dick that the man still needed him. If the man no longer needed him… Dick's heart would probably be crushed. Being needed; knowing that he was of worth was one of the few things keeping Dick going.

Could Dick really take the risk of forever chaining himself to this man? There was still the tiny chance that Dick could one day leave if he was rescued or something. But if Dick was adopted by Slade, then he would always be with this man, one way or another. There would be no escape. Slade would always be in his life somehow. The man would become his father.

Was that really a chain?

"You don't have to change your name if you agree, by the way," put in Slade quietly, interrupting Dick's thoughts.

Dick reeled at that. _Change his name?_ He could have a new identity? Did he want that? Was Slade really on the level with this? Was this really happening? Or was the man just doing this so he could have a guaranteed apprentice in his possession?

There was always that possibility, after all.

If Dick was his legal son and heir, then he really did have to do what the man said – well, not that he could disobey the man _now_ without uncomfortable consequences.

But still, this was a big step. Adopting meant that Dick was Slade's official heir – legally and not just because Slade said so. The man would also be responsible for all of Dick's material needs – not that he wasn't doing that now, but this seemed more… permanent. After all, taking care of a growing teen wasn't cheap. Yeah, wasn't like Slade wasn't doing that now.

But still…

This was… a really amazing offer.

Was this for real?

"Why… Why are you doing this?" asked Dick in a soft voice. "I mean, I'm already under your control. Is this just… Is this just a guarantee for yourself?"

There was a long pause. Dick's heart began to quicken in its beat. He knew the man wouldn't lie to him now – he had promised that and, after all, if Slade was nothing more, he was a man of his word.

Slade let out a low sigh. The man leaned folded elbows onto the table as he stared directly at him. Dick could feel power and strength in that steel grey blue eye, and he latched onto that strength; hoping with all his heart that the answer the man gave him would bring him the reassurance that he so desperately wished for.

"No, this is about Slade Wilson and Richard Grayson," said Slade; that deep grey blue eye anchoring Dick in reality. "This isn't about Slade and Robin, arch enemies. I'm offering this seriously. I suppose you could say that whether or not I manage to make you my apprentice is a whole other playing field. This adoption is completely separate. I promise this to you."

Dick's heart fell into peace; the warmth of the man's words flowing over him like a wave of warm water. Every part of Dick's soul knew – he knew and understood that Slade was telling him the truth there. It was so strange to understand this man, to understand when he was serious, to understand when he was lying – Dick could read the man very well now.

Dick looked back down at the papers. What did he want to do? Did he really want to be Slade's son? The man had said that it was just between Slade Wilson and Richard Grayson. Slade Wilson was a man that had lost his family due to tragedy. Richard Grayson was a boy that had lost his parents due to tragedy.

Could the two of them really form a father and son bond, and become a true family?

"You don't have to decide right away," said Slade, shifting in his chair once more. "There's plenty of time for you to choose what you want. This will be something I will never force you to decide."

Dick was listening carefully while his eyes glanced over the table. There was a pen next to Slade's arm.

"If you choose not to, that is perfectly acceptable," continued Slade, shifting yet again.

Dick locked his eyes onto the pen. He could change his name later if he wanted. He still wanted the name Grayson in honor of his first father. Maybe he'd add Slade's name in the middle later. Plus, if he delayed, then maybe Slade would change his mind. The man had offered; no way Dick was going to let it slip through the cracks. Tough luck if Slade changed his mind later – Dick wasn't going to let the man go then.

"I can understand it if you don't want to. You don't need to feel—"

Slade stopped abruptly as Dick's hand snatched the pen at lightning speed. It was a moment later that his signature flourished across the line of the adoption papers. In no time at all, his signatures adorned the correct lines of each document; signing his approval.

He wordlessly handed the papers to the stunned Slade.

Slade accepted them and continued to look at Dick in shock. Dick couldn't help but fidget under the stare. Partly because of the man's floored expression and partly because he was just too darn excited.

"You… You _signed_ them."

The imp came out in Dick.

"Wasn't that the idea?" asked Dick innocently with a tilt of his head. Slade's single eye blinked.

"Well… that was the objective."

"Oh, just say it like a normal person," said Dick, a smile beginning to form at his mouth. He just couldn't contain the pure happiness that was swelling inside his chest. His legs bounced excitedly.

"Say what?"

"That you're happy I signed them."

"I… am pleased."

Dick grinned.

"Although, I must say," started Slade, a genuine smile lifting his mouth. "I doubt even Kid Flash could've signed those papers faster."

Dick chuckled. Then, once again he had an impulse. But it didn't matter anymore. It was all right now. Everything was all right now. Everything was _perfect_; the future unimaginably bright. Dick understood who and what this man was, but that didn't matter anymore. He was safe, completely safe with this man. Not only that, this man was going to be his father.

_A father_.

Dick bolted to his feet and threw his arms around Slade's neck; burying his face into the nape there. Once again, he could feel the shock go through the man that he was hugging. Then, very slowly, he felt two hands slide over his back and begin to pat him gently.

The glow inside Dick's heart was completely overwhelming. He was completely happy. He was going to have a father again. All those longing moments, all those lonely times, all those uncertainties, all those times he needed someone to tell him he was going to be all right – all those times would no longer exist, because he had someone now.

He was going to have a father.

Dick tightened his arms around the man's neck. It was so strange. Six months ago if someone had told him that he would one day be hugging Slade, happy as a lark that the man had asked to adopt him, he would've locked that someone up in Gotham City's Arkham Asylum and thrown away the key.

It was probably a good thing no one had told him beforehand.

Fate was such an interesting hand. Dick doubted this had been in Slade's original plan for him. This wasn't like Slade's original style. Since that was the case, it seemed as if Dick had been able to worm his way into the man's heart.

If that was possible, then there was so much more possible, wasn't there?

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Two: Confusing Events – Raven deduces that Richard Grayson is their Robin and nearly has a terrible anxiety attack when she realizes that he's been adopted by Slade. A call to Batman doesn't clear this fear.

**Author's Notes:** AND IT HITS THE FAN! *laughs so hard* To repeat what I said at the end of chapter 18: *smirks* _Ya'll weren't expecting that, now were you?_ Have I been planning this since chapter one?

_**You betcha**_.

I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. But I can't stop smiling. Ah, well. Not gonna stop. Better get some sunglasses. *beams happily*

Oh my gosh, do ya'll know how long I've been waiting for this chapter? And I can't believe it's here. I think I've just changed everything ya'll ever knew about Slade and Robin, now didn't I? I definitely am the first, aren't I? _SLADE ADOPTED ROBIN!_ *dies laughing* It's so amazingly absurd, it's awesome. This brings Daddy!Slade to a whole new level, doncha think? ^–^ Nothing fully says father and son without making it official.

Well, this should be interesting. Heh.

*grabs popcorn* Bytheway, I share my popcorn with all reviewers! :P

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	42. Confusing Events

**Author's Note:** LOL, goodness! So many reviews in just a short amount of time. *giggles* That made my day! I literally was going crazy with excitement over this last chapter and all your reviews totally made the _long_ weekend completely worth it. ^.^ You readers might not realize it, but reviews are what make posting this story so worth it. Glad I can share it with all of you and that you all can enjoy it with me. :3

And you know, my digital popcorn _does_ taste good, don't it? XD Makes me wonder if it was the popcorn or if was the startling event that attracted all the reviews. ROOOOOOTFL!

*giggles* And of course the father/son relationship is cute. It's downright _adorable!_ And it's just gonna get 'worse'. :P

Mmm, Stockholm Syndrome. Quote from wiki: _Stockholm syndrome can be seen as a form of traumatic bonding, which does not necessarily require a hostage scenario, but which describes "strong emotional ties that develop between two persons where one person intermittently harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other."_

It's true: Dick was kidnapped by Slade. But notice that he didn't like Slade when the man was cruel with him. When Slade became normal – heh, as normal as is possible with Slade – then, the bond between them could form. I personally don't think that Dickie is under Stockholm Syndrome, I did study it a lot – there's no trauma here; no cruelty. Well, the man _is_ intimidating, but it's not like Slade can turn that off. Comes naturally. XD Geez, Batman is just as scary, if not more at times. If Slade hadn't stopped beating Dick, then I have no doubt that he would still be fighting the man with every segment of his soul. My purpose with this story is actually to _not_ utilize Stockholm Syndrome.

LOL, what's a daddybats reaction? Is that something like Batman swooping in and saving Dick? (Does Dickie need to be saved here now?) Hehehe… Oh, dear; that is _soooo_ overdone, though! *runs and hides behind Slade*

And I do believe it's spelled rendezvous. Although I probably wouldn't have been able to spell any better than you. *lives on autocorrect* I'm serious. I have about 5+ different ways of autocorrecting Slade's name. XD Convenient when my fingers decide to do something crazy. And I honestly fangirled when I learned that a _group_ of you get together to read my story. That is just insanely awesome and amazing!

And as how it all turns out; well, I suppose ya'll will have to wait and see. *smiles* I will tell you that all loose ends will be tied together nicely (hopefully—they better be) by the very last chapter. :3 All things come in their own time. I suppose that goes for that 'daddybats' reaction as well. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Two**

**Confusing Events**

**March 8th, 2009. Sunday, 6:30 pm.**

_In other news, Richard Grayson, ward of the billionaire and enterpriser Bruce Wayne, was just recently adopted by Slade Wilson. Not much information is known how this came about, but it seems that young Mr. Grayson and Mr. Wilson met in Jump City, where the young lad has been studying in a high society private school – which information has been withheld – and it is said that the two of them hit it off quite nicely. Mr. Wilson seems to be one of the instructors at Mr. Grayson's school. One can only wonder how much influence the man must've had in the young lad's life to the point of reaching such a momentous decision._

_It would appear that Bruce Wayne now no longer has his charity case anymore._

_The sad tale of young Richard happened almost eight years ago when his parents tragically fell to their deaths. The three of them were part of a circus act, The Flying Graysons, and were trapeze artists that didn't use a safety net. Tony Zucco, a feared crime lord, tried to extort money from the owner of the circus where the Graysons worked at. When the owner refused, Zucco sabotaged the trapeze wires, which snapped, leading to the deaths of Mary and John Grayson; thus, leaving poor seven year old Richard orphaned. Tony Zucco was later captured by Gotham City's Batman and two years afterwards, the man was shot and killed as he tried to escape prison._

_Now, after nearly eight years after that terrible tragedy, it seems that young Mr. Grayson has a second chance at a new family. This Jump City news reporter must say that she is happy for the young lad and wishes him all the best._

_Good luck with your new family, Richard. We wish you the best._

* * *

"_Titans! Main room, now!_"

That mental command blared through the entire tower as Raven's panicked voice flooded through everyone's minds. She had been flipping through the channels mindlessly, trying her hardest to keep her mind off of things – meditating just wasn't cutting it at that moment – when she came across the news report. She almost left it until a picture of a teenage boy appeared.

It reminded her too much of someone.

The other Titans rushed into the main room, each looking extremely frantic. Raven pointed at the paused screen of the TV. She had to calm her breathing down – she was losing control. A current of her power blasted suddenly and one of the windows cracked. Raven had to close her eyes, mentally chanting her incantation in the effort to calm herself. She could do this. _Calm. Down._

"Raven… What's the matter?" asked Beast Boy, looking extremely worried. Raven opened her eyes slowly and pointed to the screen again.

"Cyborg, bring up a comparison picture of Robin."

"Uh…"

"_Hurry!_" snapped Raven, trying extremely hard to calm the panic in her heart, but failing at it.

"Raven, calm down. I'm on it," said Cyborg, looking completely unnerved by Raven's intensity.

Starfire flew to Raven's side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. But Raven would not accept the comfort. Not if what she thought was happening was actually happening. No, no, no, _no!_ This couldn't be happening! That boy, Richard Grayson, wasn't Robin. He _couldn't_ be _their_ Robin. There's no way Robin would be _adopted_ by _Slade_. What a ridiculous thought! This whole thing was complete coincidence.

Breathe. Focus. Calm down.

Her thoughts screamed at her. Raven found herself trembling. What if Slade had truly adopted Robin? What if that boy really was Robin? Why on Azarath would Slade _adopt_ Robin? What terrible plot was working in that man's head? Was he trying to control Robin? What did adopting Robin mean for the two of them? Robin would have to obey him. Robin would be completely dependant on him. Any finances that Robin possibly had access to would be in Slade's complete control.

What did Slade really want?

He must've forced Robin to sign the papers. Robin wouldn't ever actually_ willingly_ agree to be adopted by Slade, of all people. Slade must have something over Robin. Perhaps the man was threatening their lives. Or what if the man threatened Bruce Wayne, Robin's previous guardian? What if—

"Got it," said Cyborg, breaking Raven's torrent thought process. A picture of Robin appeared next to the photograph of Richard Grayson.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Starfire.

The two photographs side by side were remarkably similar. Richard Grayson's raven hairstyle wasn't spiked back, but hung loosely around his face; bangs blanketing almost over his eyes. He had striking crystal blue eyes that stood out within the sea of black bangs. He held a young look in his face, younger than Raven would've imagined. There was a gentle softness to Richard's features; a kindness there that Robin didn't usually show. The face structure was exactly like the other photo. The only major difference was that Robin seemed to have older aura.

Raven's heart fluttered in her chest; falling at the implications. She was right. She was _right!_ Fear, sorrow, and despair rose so high in chest that she collapsed back down on the sofa. She could feel the intensity of her powers going haywire; her hair lifting slowly to fly wildly in a torrent.

Richard Grayson was Robin.

There was a crackling sound as the crack in the window furthered like spider webbings from the uncontrollably power that was spiking out. Raven dropped her face into her hands. Slade had actually _adopted_ Robin. Something was terribly wrong. They'd never get their friend back now. What was Slade planning? Would Robin become like Slade? Was that what the man wanted; a child or a son? Was he trying to get a partner or something? Why'd it have to be Robin?!

"_Raven!_" cried Beast Boy.

Raven felt something collide with her body. Thin arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders in the attempt to hug her. Raven turned to it, accepting the comfort, and wrapped her arms around the boy's neck; burying her face into the nape. The arms moved to wrap around her waist. Her shoulders began to shake with silent, dry sobs. She felt Beast Boy rubbing her back gently. Somehow, those arms around her began to calm her emotions down; her powers slowly losing their wild nature.

"What's this supposed to mean?" asked Cyborg in a low whisper. Raven could only shake her head slightly, unable to find her voice.

"Raven?" whispered Beast Boy in her ear; his voice ever so gentle. "Tell me, what happened?"

Raven tightened her arms slightly, but soon she was able to unlock her voice. She had never realized just how soft and comforting the changeling could be; and she was so thankful for it at that very moment.

"There was a news post," whispered Raven. She was sure only Beast Boy could hear her voice. "It said that Richard Grayson was adopted by Slade Wilson."

Raven felt Beast Boy's body tense. His arms tightened briefly around her waist.

"Robin is Richard Grayson. Which means that Slade Wilson is our Slade," continued Raven, still in her low whisper. "Slade _adopted_ Robin!"

It was then that Raven broke down into pure sobs. Beast Boy continued to rub her back in a soothing motion. She heard him relate this to the other two, but all sounds were drowned out in her ears. She couldn't think; she couldn't feel; she was falling into a deep pit of despair – something she had never experienced before in her entire life.

Raven wasn't one to hope. She wasn't one to think in idyllics. Starfire had been the one who had been sprouting out things about hope and such all week long. Cyborg had seemed to have taken some comfort in it, seeming to be at a quiet peace about things. Beast Boy had latched onto the advice and Starfire's words like a small puppy. But Raven was more logical. She couldn't believe Starfire's words of peace and hope, no matter how hard she tried.

But somehow, she had always assumed they would someday save Robin.

But now her world was crashing down before her very eyes. The hope of saving her friend was shattered completely. Slade held Robin right where he wanted. Perhaps this was his way of saying that Robin was officially his and his alone. It'd been seven months, after all. So much could've happened during that time. Slade could've very well brainwashed Robin. Even if they did meet now, what would Robin's condition be? Would he be like Slade? Would his heart be clouded with evil?

What had Slade done to reach this point with Robin? Had he hurt him daily; tortured him to insanity? How did Slade break down the barriers? How much darkness now resided inside Robin's heart?

Where was the hope that their friend would be all right?

"_Raven!_" cried Beast Boy's voice, bringing Raven out of her falling despair. Beast Boy pried Raven from off himself. He held her at arm's length and Raven looked into those deep green eyes. There was a serious look in Beast Boy's features; one she hadn't ever seen before.

"Everything is going to be okay!" cried Beast Boy. "I promise!"

Raven nearly morbidly laughed at that. Beast Boy promising that everything was going to be okay? What power did he hold that could guarantee that? He was the youngest out of them all. There was no way he could promise that Robin would come back. There was no way he had the power to save them all from this trial. Where'd he come off even saying that?

"I agree with Beast Boy," said Starfire, sitting down next to Raven. "No matter what the future holds, I believe that we will be reunited with Robin. I have the good feeling. Do not cry anymore, Raven. Your friends are here with you."

"How can you believe that?" whispered Raven.

"I felt the same sorrow when our lead led to nowhere," said Starfire, her monochromatic green eyes softening. "But then, I felt something… not normal and it was then I felt peace flow into my heart. I cannot easily explain, but I know Robin is well. You must not despair, Raven. We will find him."

"Yeah, so what if Slade… adopted Robin," said Cyborg, hesitating for a moment. "It's just a piece of paper. We'll still get Robin back, no worries."

"How can you say that!" cried Raven. "Don't you understand what this means? It means Slade has _won_. This is probably his message to us, saying that Robin is now his. He probably brainwashed him or tortured him or _I don't know!_ All I know is that this means Robin is lost to us."

"How do you know that?" demanded Beast Boy. "Come on, Rae. How do you know that?"

"I—"

"I think I rather believe that there's still a chance to save Robin," continued Beast Boy, overriding her. "If we give up hope, then everything dies. I don't think I could handle that yet, you know. Star's been right – there's still hope."

"Yes, you must believe, Raven," said Starfire, placing a hand on Raven's shoulder.

"_Believe in what?!_" cried Raven.

"Your heart," said Beast Boy before any of the others could answer her. Raven turned her gaze and their eyes locked. She could see a deep depth inside those dark green eyes of Beast Boy. Lips trembling once again, she moved closer to Beast Boy and put her arms around his neck once more. Beast Boy returned the hug, rubbing her back gently.

"You know what I say?" said Cyborg in a soft voice. "I say we contact Batman and see what he thinks about the whole thing. He might have some answers that we don't have."

"I think that is an excellent idea," said Starfire, clapping her hands together once excitedly. After a long moment, Raven slowly pulled away from Beast Boy. She looked up at Cyborg and nodded.

"I agree."

"Awesome, I'll get up on the communication line right away," said Cyborg, turning away to the computer. Raven glanced over at Beast Boy. There was a slight pink creeping into his cheeks. He ran a hand through his short spiky hair while darting a few glances at Raven.

"Um… You okay now, Rae?" asked Beast Boy shyly. Raven smiled lightly and gave him a nod.

"Thanks, Beast Boy. Sorry for losing it all over you."

Beast Boy quickly shook his head and rapidly motioned with his hands.

"No, no!" cried Beast Boy, the pink reddening slightly in his cheeks. "You can lose it all over me anytime."

Raven raised an eyebrow.

"Wait… that didn't come out right," frowned Beast Boy. Raven couldn't help it; a small giggle broke through her defenses. The instant it left her lips, her eyes widened and she clasped a hand over her mouth. Beast Boy looked shocked that she had laughed. But he smiled.

"You should laugh more often, Raven," said Beast Boy in a gentle tone. "It suits you."

Before Raven could answer that, Cyborg interrupted.

"I'm calling him. You guys wanna gather around?"

Raven pulled her hood over her head to obscure her face. Thankful for the distraction from the sudden heat in her cheeks, she stood up. Beast Boy looked nervously at her, as if she were a glass doll. She fought to roll her eyes at the way he was hovering over her; thankful for the kindness of her friend, but that didn't mean she was going to fall apart again.

The group came to stand around Cyborg as he sat in a office chair in front of the large computer screen. There was a waiting icon that popped up as the call was being put through. Raven closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could calm her heart down.

A hand touched her arm and she looked towards the source. Beast Boy was looking up at her with concerned eyes.

"I'm okay, Beast Boy," said Raven. The concerned look faded into a smile, but the hand didn't disappear. Then, a familiar low voice filled the room.

"Titans."

Raven looked up at the screen to see the black figure of Batman. Instantly, Raven knew that Batman had heard the same news that she had. The man's sharp blue eyes were clouded with worry and pain. He still held his normal and what could be considered intimating stance, but this time his eyes didn't bury the worry.

"I think I know why you're calling me," said Batman, sounding somewhat tired.

"So, it's true, then?" asked Cyborg. "Richard Grayson is Robin and he's been adopted by some guy named Slade Wilson?"

"I'm afraid so," said Batman; those blue eyes flashing once with pain. "Nothing I tried do could stop the papers from going through. Everything seemed to override my protests."

"How could anyone fight against _Batman_, though?" demanded Beast Boy, as if the very thought offended him. "I mean, who'd dare to?"

There was a soft sound that escaped from Batman's lips. It wasn't exactly a laugh; it wasn't exactly a chuckle; more like a scoffing exhale of air.

"If Batman got involved, it would reveal Dick's secret identity and my own. It would put him into even more danger than he already is in now."

Beast Boy looked over at Cyborg, who in turn looked at him, and mouthed, 'Dick?' in questioning. Cyborg gave him a shrug and looked back up at Batman. Raven rolled her eyes beneath the safety of her hood.

_Boys…_

"But how?" demanded Beast Boy.

"You didn't see all of the news post, then?" asked Batman.

"I did," said Raven. "I'm assuming then that you're Bruce Wayne. Since Batman was in charge of Robin and Bruce over Richard. Makes sense."

Beast Boy and Cyborg spluttered. They darted looks between each other to Raven and then finally to Batman.

"You're _Bruce Wayne?!_" the two of them cried incredulously at the same time.

Batman shifted uncomfortably for a moment before his eyes took on a sharp light.

"Yes, I am and you're to keep that information to yourself, _you got that?_"

Beast Boy and Cyborg looked appalled.

"Yes, of course," said Cyborg.

"Like _duh_," cried Beast Boy. "Everybody knows to keep the secret identity of heroes a _secret_."

_Your mouth doesn't know that, though_, thought Raven.

Seemed like Batman thought the same, but he didn't say anything.

"So, what does this all mean?" asked Cyborg. "Why would Slade adopt Robin?"

There was a long moment where Batman merely watched the group. Raven got the impression that the man was trying to decide whether or not he should reveal some sort of knowledge that he had. Raven narrowed her eyes. The man knew something they didn't know.

"What do you know about Slade that we don't know?" asked Raven. She could see the man lift an eyebrow through the cowl that covered most of his face.

"Why haven't you figured it out?" asked Batman, his tone cold. Raven stiffened; unable to hold back the wave of injured anger that flooded through her.

_Why hadn't they figured it out?_ Why couldn't he just offer the information up? If they hadn't told him, he wouldn't have even known that Robin had been missing. He wasn't watching over him. He wasn't thinking about him hourly, minutely, secondly; wishing, wondering, even praying that Robin would be _alive_; let alone fine, well, content.

"You didn't even know he'd been kidnapped if we hadn't alerted you," snapped Raven in her monotone voice. "We shared our information with you. You should do us the same courtesy."

"Raven's right," whispered Cyborg. "It's not like we've been sitting here on our butts doing nothing."

"Yeah! We infiltrated a criminal academy for information," piped up Beast Boy.

"But I am afraid that the lead we received was not helpful," said Starfire, her voice quiet and soft. "We have tried. We are always trying to figure what we must do next. Please, if you know anything, I implore you to share with us."

Two hands touched Raven's arms; one from Starfire and one from Beast Boy. If was as if each were telling her that they were there for her and that she wasn't alone. Somehow, the anger in her heart began to lessen. Raven took a deep calming breath. She had almost thrown her control right out the window.

But when it came to the safety of her friend, it seemed that all bets were off.

Batman observed the group silently. Each of the Titans stared back; not one backing down from their resolve. The air of the group was united in their feelings – tell them; tell them what the man knew about Slade. Then, for a brief moment, Batman looked to the side before looking back at the group.

"Slade's the world renowned assassin and mercenary, Deathstroke the Terminator," said Batman. "I have no doubt that Slade kidnapped Dick because of his abilities. I believe Slade wants him to be his apprentice."

Horror poured through Raven. There was a double set of gasps and sharp intakes of breaths from Beast Boy and Cyborg. Only Starfire looked a little confused, but she didn't speak up.

"_Deathstroke?!_" cried Beast Boy. Raven noticed that he began to shiver. "Slade's _Deathstroke?_ Oh my gosh…"

Beast Boy crouched to the floor, putting his hands onto his head; shaking it slightly.

"The dude's infamous," said Cyborg, sounding completely distressed. "He's been the one we've been fighting all this time? We never even stood a chance. He… He totally played us every time. We've never really won against him. He must've viewed us as toys or something compared to his power."

Raven wasn't sure of the reputation of Deathstroke. The only words she had heard were: assassin, mercenary, and apprentice.

"I bet this is Slade's way of saying he's won Robin over to his side," continued Batman, his sharp eyes flashing once; Raven recognized the all too familiar sign of pain. "All this time there's been nothing from him, except a few contract hits. But he hasn't surfaced with anything that connected him to Dick; until now, that is."

"Please, what is this Deathstroke? What is the significance of this?" asked Starfire, slowly beginning to look alarmed by the reactions of the two boys. Beast Boy looked up at her from his crouching.

"Deathstroke is like the worst bad guy ever," said Beast Boy in a quiet voice. "If someone pays him good money, he'll kill whoever they ask him to. But he's never been caught and his kills are always perfect. He's insanely powerful and good at what he does. Even my old team, The Doom Patrol, was wary of him."

Starfire's eyes widened in fear.

"And if Slade wishes for Robin to be his apprentice, then that would mean…"

Starfire gasped at the end of her conclusion; her hands lifting to cover her mouth. Her bright green eyes filled with tears.

"_Oh, no!_"

"Yes, Slade will probably teach Dick to kill," said Batman; his jaw clenching. "Perhaps he already has."

There was a sobbing gasp from Starfire and the alien girl turned to Raven; collapsing over her into deep sobs with her arms around Raven's neck. Raven wrapped her arms around Starfire, feeling the same terrible weight over her heart and briefly wishing that she didn't always have to control her emotions. What would it feel like to let it all out? _Let it all out_. What would it feel like to let herself go completely and sob away all the pain? What would it be like to never have to fear that any spike of her emotions would destroy things or hurt the ones she cared about?

"We've… all failed," said Cyborg, the pain of helplessness pouring from his tone; mixed with deep self loathing. "We've failed Robin. We've failed to save him, to help him. _What the freaking heck is wrong with us!?_"

Cyborg leaned his elbows onto the desk; holding his ducked head in his hands. Raven looked up at Batman, wondering what the man was feeling. Did he feel the same? Did he feel the same self loathing that each of them were feeling at that moment? Was Robin truly lost to them? Had they really failed their friend? Was he going to be forced to live a life of darkness?

Would he really kill someone?

Starfire suddenly bolted away from Raven, startling her. She quickly wiped away her tears and set a determined, fierce look upon her face.

"I will not give up," said Starfire, power emanating from her voice. "I will not give up on my friend, Robin. All is not lost. This much I know."

"Don't get your hopes up," snapped Batman in a sharp voice. Raven looked up to see that the man's eyes were burying the pain again. "Even if by some way Dick was rescued, there's no guarantee that he'll be the same person you know."

Raven couldn't help but agree with the man. His words, though disheartening, were logical and true. Of course Robin wasn't going to be the same when—_if_ he came back. There was no logical reasoning that would say he'd be the same. To survive, he probably lost part of his essence that made him the powerful leader of the Teen Titans. He had to submit to a frightening demon of a man.

"No! I will not believe that," cried Starfire. "I cannot explain what I am feeling. All I know is that there is more than we think. I know Robin is safe and well. I do not think his heart has changed for the evil."

"_That is ridiculous_," said Batman sharply, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Dick is a strong kid, but no one has that much strength to endure months with a man who would do anything to get what he wants. What are you basing that statement on? How do can you even believe that?"

Starfire brought her hands to place them over her heart. There was an overwhelming aura that Raven felt, an almost white brilliance. But the sensation left the moment it had appeared. Starfire lifted her gaze upward and everyone who saw her eyes widened their own.

"The whispers of my heart are telling me it is so," said Starfire, her voice ever so soft and kind. "There is something telling me to keep believing in Robin and believe in him I shall do so. I will not let this despair come into my heart."

Raven couldn't believe Starfire. Where on earth did she find that strength? What whispers were telling her that? Was she connected by some unknown magic? And what had been that brief light Raven had seen? What was going on?

Raven glanced at Batman and then at Starfire. The logical, pessimistic side of her believed, or relented to believe, Batman's words. But the small glimmer of hope that still had a place in her heart wanted to believe Starfire's words so much more. Raven wanted to believe; no, she _needed_ to believe. If she didn't, she doubted she'd ever really gain full control over her emotions. She'd never be able to forgive herself if Robin was doomed to a terrible fate. She'd always think what more she could've done. The what ifs would eat her alive.

Who would she believe? Her friend who spoke of a fantasy, of something that seemed farther out of reach than the furthest skies of the galaxy or would she believe the man that spoke of assumed truth, yet that brought the deepest of all pains to her soul?

An icy pain clouded over Batman's eyes.

"I trust in logic and evidence. You can believe whatever you will, but don't drag your friends down a trail of lost hope."

The video chat disconnected.

Raven turned to Starfire, her eyes searching for an answer; one she just didn't believe she would find. Beast Boy slowly stood up; walking over to the couch and flopping down onto it with his eyes glazed over. There was a gloom over the group like never before. The hopeless, the helpless feeling of losing their friend to the darkness seemed too much for them to bear. Cyborg didn't move from his spot at the desk. Starfire glanced over at Raven and their eyes connected. Deep down, Raven could tell that within every segment of Starfire's soul that she believed that Robin was all right.

Not only that, she _knew_.

But how did she know?

Starfire's eyes flashed with strength, before she lifted into the air and flew over to the kitchen. Raven raised an eyebrow as she watched the girl tear open cabinets and pull out numerous ingredients.

"What are you doing, Star?" asked Raven.

"I am making the pancakes for everyone," said Starfire, determinedly pulling out bowls and pans from the middle island cabinet. Cyborg lifted from his brooding at the desk and looked over at her.

"Star… There's no need—"

"There is every need!" cried Starfire, looking up at him with a fierce expression on her face. "I will not despair and I will not let any of my friends despair, either. This is the only way I know of to show that I still believe in our friend."

"You can't change the facts, Star," whispered Beast Boy.

"No, you are correct," nodded Starfire. "I know the facts. But I have facts of my own. I know to trust. We will not let the Batman's words bring the gloom upon us. He is wrong. Robin will never betray his friends. Robin will never let Slade win. Robin has a good heart. Perhaps there is something we do not know. Whatever it is, I shall believe and so shall you."

Raven watched Starfire try to gather the ingredients for the pancakes. As usual, Starfire's knowledge of earth style cooking was completely off. The strength in Starfire was apparent and emanating from her entire being, but there was a moment of weakness as a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but another one soon replaced it. Soon, she was fighting multiple tears and struggling to keep them away.

Raven's heart turned inside her chest. She walked over to Starfire's side. She pulled down her hood and placed a hand over Starfire's, which was attempting to pour orange juice in a mixing bowl.

"I'll help you," said Raven in a soft voice. Starfire swallowed and nodded; thankfulness entering her glistening eyes. Raven looked at the other two boys.

"We could use some help over here," said Raven in a flat tone. There was a moment where Beast Boy and Cyborg exchanged glances, before soft smiles began to spread through their faces.

"I'll get the chocolate chips," said Beast Boy, jumping up from the couch.

"I'll get the blueberries," said Cyborg, standing up from the computer. Raven let a smile tug at her lips as the two boys walked into the kitchen. They were already quietly arguing on whether or not the pancakes should be made with soy milk or not. Even with tears still streaming down her face, Starfire smiled happily at the group. The friends were quiet as each helped in their own way; the unspoken confirmation of a single thought wafting through the air.

The moment of hope still hadn't died in their hearts.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Three: Letters – With the adoption approval in hand, Dick asks Slade for a very important favor; and Slade finds out his greatest weakness – those confounded puppy eyes.

**Author's Notes:** *giggles* BB/Rae awkward moment for the win! XD

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	43. Letters

**Author's Note:** Once again, thanks a ton for all the reviews and support! You're all wonderful. ^^

Oh yeah, forgot to say how long it's taken me to write this story – first initial draft of the story was completed within 72 days; 236,000 words. This, of course, doesn't include the 40,000 worth of words that I also wrote of _Warped Identity_ during those 72 days. First time I ever thought about this story was around April 6th/7th of this year and I started writing on April 8th, 2013.

And I haven't stopped.

And I'm happy as a lark. :3

Haha, as for if this is going to be a hint of BB/Rae… Hm, last chapter? *coughs* That _was_ the hint. XD ROTFL.

You know, I always disliked something about all the apprentice fics. There was always a common theme to them. It always made me feel sort of disappointed and depressed for all the characters involved with the events. It's was _always_ the same. Either Robin became the villain or he escaped, being affected by the events. But most of the time, I felt cheated out of character development for _all_ characters concerned.

If you're looking for the usual, conventional Slade/Robin story, then it's obvious you won't find it here. ^^ Since I plan to change that. A crazy change, one rarely done – one in a blue moon. When? Give it another week and you shall find out in the final week of posting. :3

If you're really looking for clues, reread the summary.

Also; yes, the Titans and Dick will definitely come face to face. How, when, and what will happen, you'll just have to wait and see. :3 And I can also say that Dick will also come face to face with Batman at some point as well. ^^

I love those puppy eyes. Oh, and speaking of puppy eyes…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Three**

**Letters**

**March 8th, 2009. Sunday, 12:08 pm.**

Slade held the envelope in his hand. A small, yet truly genuine smile was spreading through his face. For a moment, it seemed completely unreal, a dream, a fantasy; but there it was – the approval for the adoption. Dick was officially his son – _his_ son and no one else's. It was a lot to take in – there was no doubt about that. Slade hadn't ever imagined that he'd go all this way with the boy. Slade had only thought of making the boy his apprentice, his heir; but never had he thought that the boy would become his son.

_His son…_

So many years had passed since Slade could confidently say he had a son.

But it was so strange saying that the boy was his _son_ now. After so many years of not really being a father, now he was again. Was this something he had wanted during these years? Something he had missed? There was something special about the unconditional affections of a loving child – Slade had once had three, so he was all too aware of such unconditional love; even when sometimes there was a deep, nagging feeling inside that ate at his self conscious, telling him he didn't deserve such things.

But there was something so special inside Dick's heart that told Slade that he too would be no different in his feelings of affection than Slade's first children.

Memories of the past could be so painful.

Slade could still remember the joyful pride that had always risen inside his chest as he entered their home at nights so many years ago. The traditional, "_Daddy's home!_" would be literally screamed by little Rose, who would then dash up to Slade and cling to his legs gleefully. Much of the time, she'd set herself on top of his shoes so that he'd have to walk into the house with her. Joey was always close behind her; his bright green eyes sparkling happily, but too shy and bashful to join in the hugging fest – no matter how desperately he wanted to do so. Grant would always saunter in last, seeming to ooze the aura, "I'm too cool to rush up to Dad even though I'm just as excited to see him."

And then…

It was all shattered.

Those innocent times had been completely destroyed. It had been all his fault, too. Those happy, cheerful voices would never ring their innocent sounds in Slade's ears. They were lost; their potential completely dashed away into a thousand shards; shattered pieces that could never be restored.

Such beauty wasted.

Slade had failed so badly the first time around that he couldn't stop the brief feeling of total terror that rippled through his heart at that moment; completely unsettling him. The burden was far more heavy than he had realized it would be. How could a simple piece of paper completely change everything? How could he fear that he would fail again? He was _Deathstroke_; failure never occurred to him – of course, how wrong that thinking was; after all, Deathstroke had done nothing but fail when it came to his family. Deathstroke might be a perfect assassin, but he wasn't perfectly all powerful in the universe – he wasn't a god, obviously; immortal or not. No matter the enhancements he had, he wasn't omnipotent.

What of Slade, then? Would he fail with his newfound second chance?

Would he fail Dick?

But Slade tried to push such feelings back. He wouldn't fail; he wouldn't allow it. Especially since Wintergreen would probably say that he was already doing a good job at fathering the boy – if you wanted to call it that – and if he wasn't, the old man would, _no doubt_, voice his opinions good and strong over it. He had done so before, after all.

But going through with the adoption through legal means had really just been for Dick – Slade would _never_ admit that it had been something he wanted. Luckily, he hadn't promised not to lie to _himself_. After seeing the boy so insecure at times about where he stood with him, Slade knew that this was the only way to help the boy believe that Slade truly wanted him by his side. He hadn't thought that Dick would say yes so _fast_. Surely the boy would've wanted a _few_ minutes to decide. But the boy had proven Slade wrong and had signed those papers so quick that Slade hadn't even had the time to blink.

And now it was approved.

No doubt the entire cape community would be in an uproar over it soon. Slade smirked. He could just imagine the face on that bat when he found out that Deathstroke had adopted the Boy Wonder right out from under him. What a funny sight to see. Slade would pay a lot of money for a photograph of that face. Might even blow it up jumbo size and hang it on a wall…

However, Slade was deeply wondering what the future held for the both of them. He had decided to stop the gun education – for the time being, at least. The boy had questioned about it, but Slade had brushed it off. He wasn't about to tell the boy his real feelings on the matter. Slade wasn't sure what he should do from now on. Lately, his thoughts were always filled with contemplation about what he should do for the boy. Dick's wellbeing was always on the forefront of his mind.

Actually, it was the strangest thing. Anytime Slade tried to get any work done, his thoughts would become distracted. Slade _never_ got distracted. But no matter how much he tried to focus, he just couldn't get into it. It just wasn't as fulfilling as it once was, either. In fact, he found he could care less about it all. Training the boy was a much better use of his time, not to mention he preferred to do so.

Or in reality, spending _time_ with the boy was his real preference.

But… since when?

But even if he was training the boy, for what purpose was he doing so? Something inside of Slade was telling him that there was no way that Dick would ever become his partner in missions that required a kill. After seeing the way he had reacted in the battlefield, Slade knew there was just no possible way Dick would ever kill. Even when Slade had been killed himself, Dick hadn't been able to turn the weapon against his killer – even with such deep grieving that still brought a sober feeling over Slade at the thought.

Finding the perfect apprentice was beginning to seem like an impossible feat for Slade. Dick was perfect, save for that glaring single flaw of never being about to kill an enemy. That was very dangerous, actually. It was very lucky that Dick could handle himself so well in a fight.

But what about those fights where there was someone more powerful than him?

Well, there was always that occurrence in life.

Dick was a special kid, there was no doubt about that – a perfect son, at the very least. Whatever the future held, Slade was sure that they'd figure it out. No need to worry about it too much. It wasn't like anything had really changed between them. They just now had something a little more official on paper was all. The only real difference Slade was noticing was the fact that Dick showing that he was more comfortable with Slade – there was a familiarity that Slade hadn't even hoped to achieve.

It was certainly amazing.

Slade walked out of his bedroom and down the hallway. He could hear Dick's animated voice chatting excitedly to Wintergreen. Slade couldn't hold back the smile that spread through his face. It was truly endearing to hear that boy talk. There was life pouring from his mere voice.

"—and then, Beast Boy landed with an enormous _thud_, transforming into a giant T-Rex. You should've seen it, Will – totally scared the crap outta those prisoners. I've never heard grown men scream like that before."

There was a chuckle from Wintergreen.

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, it was so cool—Oh, hey, Slade," said Dick, his face spreading into a wide smile as Slade came into view. Dick and Wintergreen were sitting at the table together. Slade sat down next to Dick and the boy straightened happily. Slade could've sworn that the boy somehow got closer. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Slade wasn't sure if it was a subconscious effort to be closer to him or if he was truly doing it on purpose.

The boy was such a mystery lately.

"What's all this excitement?" asked Slade in a smooth tone, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. Dick's smile broadened.

"I was just telling Will a little story about a prison break."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we dominated them," said Dick, confidence oozing throughout his voice.

"You always do," said Slade with a smirk. Dick glowed under the praise. Then, Slade proffered the envelope. With a questioning look, Dick accepted it and opened it. His face lit up as he read the contents.

"It was approved!" cried Dick happily, nearly bouncing in his seat. Wintergreen had a soft, joyful smile on his face and attempted to hide it behind his mug; taking a sip from it. Slade watched the boy pour over the document as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Slade wasn't sure what was so amazing about it. It was merely a piece of paper. It didn't change anything. It was just a little more proof of the situation.

The boy could be so overly emotional about things.

There was a moment where Dick's face softened. His sparkling blue eyes glittered once as they flicked a glance at Slade, before settling to stay at their gaze.

"So…" started Dick, his voice ever so soft and shy. "Does this officially mean that I'm your… your… _son?_"

The boy had spoken the word with great reverence, as if it was the most special, sacred word in the world. Those eyes were once again filled with great longing; seeking, searching, yearning with all their might.

That boy had longed for a father ever so long. Could Slade be arrogant enough to say that he hadn't longed for a second chance?

Dick wasn't Grant.

Dick wasn't Joey.

Dick wasn't Rose.

But somehow, he didn't need to be – just Dick was just fine; just _perfect_.

Slade leaned onto the table and rested his elbows onto it; looking down at the boy. Slade leaned a little closer, coming to be a number of inches away from the boy's face. The boy appeared to hold his breath; his eyes widening with soft, yet content surprise.

"_Yes_," whispered Slade. "_You are my son_."

Those eyes softened with tender delight; a gentle, shy smile spreading through the boy's features. A glimmer of light glittered over those crystal orbs. The boy glanced down at the paper, almost appearing bashful for a moment. His chest rose once, while his hands trembled slightly.

Slade pulled back, watching the boy carefully. Something amazingly soft rippled through Dick, as if those words had been so comforting to him.

Words that seemed to have been so longed for after so many years.

"Is this the official copy?" asked Dick quietly after a moment, looking back up at Slade.

"No, there's two."

"Can I keep a set?" asked Dick, his crystal blue eyes wide and dazzling with yearning.

Slade withheld the eyebrow raise that threatened to lift his face. He mentally wondered lightly if he could last long under those eyes. That confounded child was developing a dangerous technique there. Did every child have those kind of eyes? Blast it all, and it wasn't even something Slade was going to say no to. What would he do in a more serious situation should the boy decide to wield such a weapon against him?

Ah, Slade knew – he'd make the boy wear his mask. Then, Slade would be spared from those eyes; those blasted _puppy_ eyes.

"Of course," said Slade with a dismissive wave of his hand, averting his eye away from the boy. There was only so much sap Slade could take, after all. But he glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye and saw the boy once again staring at that paper with such happiness in his eyes. The whole thing was inconceivable. It was completely unimaginable that the boy would be this happy.

But he was.

Slade was still trying to process their progress. It was stunning. The boy before him had once looked upon Slade with such hatred, loathing, and deep fear. Now there was nothing but happiness and respect in those eyes when they gazed at him. It was strange seeing that from another person towards himself. It had been so long since Slade had anyone look at him like that. And Slade had felt a similar amazing growth inside his own heart. What had once just been the boy who would be his apprentice, became the boy he wanted to be his son – _and now he was_.

_Yes_, Slade was pleased to have Dick as a _son_.

Slade smirked and leaned his elbow onto the table; watching the boy. It was the most endearing thing ever – the way that boy poured over that document. It was a few moments before Dick glanced up at Slade.

"Slade, can I ask you a favor?" asked Dick. Luckily those eyes of his weren't so pleading like before. Bearable, at least.

"You can ask, doesn't mean I'll give it to you," said Slade with a wry smirk.

Dick bit his lip and stood up; coming to stand right next to him. Slade pulled back; looking up at the boy with mild amusement. The boy looked down at him, now with those eyes in full working condition; glittering brightly with longing. Dick latched a hand onto the sleeve of Slade's shirt and continued to look at him. Slade sighed. Even after all these years, Slade knew such a technique. Rose had liked to use this one all too often.

"What is it?" said Slade in a tired tone.

"I was wondering…" began Dick slowly, his lower lip protruding into a pout slightly. "Co—could I send some letters to my friends letting them know I'm okay?"

Slade raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Aw, Slade; don't say no so fast," pouted Dick, pushing out his lower lip even more; increasing the effect. "At least hear me out."

"No."

"But—"

"Mmm, I don't think I'm in the mood for a back and forth at the moment," said Slade in a considering tone, tapping his chin with his fingers before rubbing the fur that rested there. "How about I get right to the point? Are you seriously willing to risk punishment over this?"

There was a paused moment where the boy looked as if he were heavily considering that threat, but then Dick pursed his lips timidly and meekly nodded; those eyes still in full blown working order. Slade let his eye roll to the side – _not_ in the effort to avoid those eyes, _no_ – as he let out a long sigh.

"All right, I'll hear your reasoning. Hurry it up."

"I just really want to let them know I'm okay," said Dick in a hurried tone, as if nervous that Slade would interrupt him. "They must be really worried about me, you know. It's been months. I swear I won't put any hidden messages or tell them where I am. Just simple letters – I promise. You can read them, too; just to make sure. Please? _Please_, Slade?"

Slade looked up at the pleading boy. He truly did look serious over the matter. Well… he supposed there wasn't any harm in letting the child write a few letters. It wasn't like the boy was going anywhere just because he wrote some _letters_. After all, Dick had signed the papers; so, he was permanently Slade's now – _his son_. Well, not that he wasn't beforehand, but for some reason, Slade just couldn't get over that fact – _his son_. Besides, the boy still needed his friends, even through letter correspondence – not that Slade was going to allow a return address.

It wasn't like Slade was worried that Dick would leave first chance he got. There was no way he was feeling that way. That was completely _ridiculous_. He could just imagine Wintergreen's face if he said something like that. There was absolutely _no way_ that Slade was worried. He didn't worry about such absurd things.

Most certainly not.

Slade couldn't hold back another sigh as there was another tug on his shirt sleeve. A deeper pleading pout appeared before him. Well, Slade was just going to have to nip this in the bud. He couldn't let the boy think that such a technique could actually sway his thinking. No, he was immune to such childish techniques of a young boy.

Those sparkling eyes blinked once.

Well, Slade supposed he could nip it in the bud _next time_.

Good grief, he was getting soft.

"All right; all right," began Slade, lifting his hands into the air resignedly. The boy's eyes lit up his entire face. "Paper and pen are in that drawer there; envelopes, too. Hurry it up before I change my mind."

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_" cried Dick, almost bouncing up and down as he darted to the drawer.

"Mmm…"

Within moments, the kitchen table was covered in paper and envelopes. Dick sat near Slade; not too close as to give the man elbow room, but close enough to feel of the man's presence. It just felt nice being close to Slade.

'_Yes, you are my son.'_

Those words had brought the ultimate of glows to Dick's heart and the fact that those exact words came out of Slade mouth – _willingly_ – was the most amazing thing of all.

But it also was completely nuts that this man was his father now. It gave him goosebumps just thinking about. First, the thought that he had a father again, and then the fact that said father was _Slade_, of all the possible humans on the _planet_ – definitely threw him for a loop, that's for sure.

'_Yes, you are my son.'_

Ah, but who cared at that moment? Dick was just going to enjoy the moment. He was actually trembling with pure giddiness. Dick caught a glimpse of a genuine smile from Slade as he lifted a newspaper and began to read. There was an overwhelming feeling of warmth that flowed over Dick; his heart glowing even more inside his chest. He could feel approval coming from the man. It was subtle, but it was there. It was so difficult for Dick to sort all the feelings that were inside his chest. But there was one thing he was very aware of.

He was happy.

Dick made a little list of who he wanted to send letters to. Starfire was at the top of the list. Out of all of his friends, she had to be the one he missed the most. There was something so happy, so beautiful about her that he loved every moment he was with her. She seemed to cast the brightest ray of light into the shadows of Dick's mind. She was always the easiest to talk to about anything and everything – he definitely considered her to be his best friend.

He also wanted to send a letter to Bruce and Alfred, but he wasn't sure if Slade would let him.

"Slade," began Dick, looking over at the man. "Can I send a letter to Bruce and Alfred, too?"

Slade visibly stiffened. His hands clenched the sides of his newspaper to the point of crinkling it. He slowly lowered the newspaper to look at him. Dick quickly continued to speak before Slade could answer; the man looked almost livid.

"I just want to set him at ease," said Dick hurriedly; understanding Slade's rigidness was coming from mentioning Bruce. It almost seemed as if the man was… jealous of Bruce? That'd be a first, wouldn't it? There was no way that could be true. "I want him to know I'm all right and that I chose this. He doesn't have to worry that anything bad is going on. Is that okay?"

Slade slowly relaxed. After a few moments of waiting, he gave Dick a sharp, quick double nod of his head.

"Yes, that'll be fine."

"Thanks, Slade," said Dick with a smile.

"You're not going to want to send a letter to the Pope, too, are you?" asked Slade, his tone dripping with his usual dry sarcasm. Dick merely let out a soft giggle and shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Blessed day," drawled Slade.

Dick smiled as he looked down at his list. He was going to send out six letters. He wasn't sure how he was going to go about this. He had a lot of feelings of longing, loneliness, fear, and worry for these six people. His biggest wish was that he could get across his sincere apology for the Red X matter to his four friends. Nothing mattered more than their acceptance of that.

He desperately needed their forgiveness, but he wasn't sure if he had it.

He had no doubt that the Titans would learn about the adoption. Or at least, that's what he assumed. He was going to write each letter with that in mind.

If they didn't know… Well, they were in for a huge surprise, then, now weren't they?

He set pen to paper and began with Starfire's letter; hers being the easiest, but in a way also the hardest one.

* * *

_Dear Starfire,_

_I don't even know where to begin. I miss you, there's a start. I __really__ miss you. I've missed all of you so much. I'm okay. You don't have to worry. I'm safe and I'm okay and I miss you so, so much. It's been too long since I've seen you guys. _

_First of all, I want to apologize for the whole Red X thing. I should've trusted you guys with the plan. I'm so sorry that I ruined your trust in me. It was stupid of me to expect that I could do everything myself, by myself. I've learned these past seven months, no matter how much I hate to admit it, that I'm just a kid and I don't have to do everything on my own. I've learned that it's okay to rely on others, to need others. It's been a humbling lesson to learn, but learned it I have._

_So, I really hope you'll forgive me, Star. I don't think I could bear the thought of you being mad at me. I'm really, really sorry. You know, you're amazing. You're my best friend. You're the kindest, bravest, and strongest girl ever and I'm really glad you're my friend. Thanks for always being the bringer of sunshine in the team._

_Sooo, I bet you've heard about the adoption. I know it's crazy stuff. Just hear me out, okay? A lot has happened in these past months. __A lot__._

_Like I said before, I'm safe and well. Slade's not hurting me. In the beginning, he kidnapped me to make me his apprentice and heir. I really hated it during that first month. But then, everything changed. I can't really explain what happened, but I can tell you that Slade and I, we've kind of come to an agreement. He's actually been nice during the recent six months. It's crazy, I know. Slade being nice? But during that time, I learned that Slade isn't just this criminal. I learned that he's a person, he's got a past, and I realized there was more to him than we ever really realized. He's pretty amazing, I'll admit, Star. Sure he's got his thorns, but I've learned that he's like me, like every other human in the world, he's an imperfect person. There've been times when I've felt like a normal kid here and that's something I haven't had in years. As the months have gone by, I think my heart has grown._

_Somehow, I grew to find out about the real Slade. I can't explain it, but because of what I learned, I grew to care about him. And you know the amazing part, Star? I think he grew to care about me, too, and more than just his original intentions. That's why I agreed to the adoption. I never told you this, but my parents died when I was seven and I was taken in by Batman. But something was always missing with him. But guess what, Slade seems to fill in the gaps. There's something about him that sometimes reminds me of my real father._

_I love him, Star. Can you believe it? I can't tell the others that. They'd just die. I can see them now, each passing out if I told them that. But it's the truth. I really do love him. So much has happened for my heart to reach this point and I truly believe he'll be a good father to me. He really cares about me now and I can feel that. It's different now, different since he first brought me here and I like it this way._

_I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. I'll try to convince Slade for a visit. I think he might let me now. I still really want to be a Teen Titan, but I also want to be Slade's son for awhile. It's new to me, after not having a father for so long and I'm kind of really enjoying it._

_Don't worry, though. I __will__ see you again._

_Robin_

_Richard 'Dick' Grayson_

* * *

Dick swallowed. This one had his heart. He wasn't sure why he poured so much feeling into Starfire's letter. She just seemed safe; seemed that she would just understand him. And even if she didn't, Dick knew that she wouldn't hate him for it. She would merely accept him. There was something so open about Starfire that it brought Dick a lot of peace. Somehow, he knew that Starfire would treasure his openness with her. He decided to sign his real name as well. He felt safe doing so and he wanted her to hear his real name.

Next, Dick decided to write to Raven.

* * *

_Dear Raven,_

_I hope you're all doing okay. I miss you guys so much. Please don't worry, though. I'm doing just fine. I'm well. The more I think about it, the more I realize just how long it's been since I've seen you all._

_I just want to start off apologizing for what I did with Red X. It was so stupid of me to think that I could've done something like that without your help. I was an idiot, like you said. I really could've benefited from the collaboration of my teammates, but I shoved the trust we had right into your faces and I'm truly sorry for that. I should've trusted you guys._

_I hope you'll forgive for that, Rae. I can just imagine you saying how stupid it was, but then you're the first to get over things sometimes. You're really wise like that. It's incredible. I don't think I'm that wise. Aha, obviously. You're a wonderful friend and a wonderful team member. Thanks for enduring our crazy antics all the time._

_Well, I'm sure you've heard about the adoption. Hear me out, will you? I know it's a little out there, but a lot has happened. So much so, you can't even imagine._

_I am doing well, just so you know. Life with Slade is actually normal. Weird, I know. But when Slade kidnapped me to become his apprentice and heir in the beginning, it didn't seem normal. But everything's change now. I've learned something special, something so amazing that it's completely changed my life._

_Slade isn't just a criminal. He's a real person. I know that sounds strange to say. You're probably thinking, "You just figured that out now?" And you'd be right. Stupid not to think that. But during these past months, I learned about the human side of Slade, the part of him that makes him who he really is and not what he displays to us. He kind of reminds me of you with his humor, although his is a bit more sadistic in nature. He's more of a tease, at my expense most of the time. But it's all good._

_I know you probably hate me for letting myself be adopted by him, but I don't have any parents and during these months I discovered that he really fits that mold. It's crazy, I do realize that, but it's working. I'm not sure when I'll see you guys again, but hopefully soon._

_Don't worry, though. I'll see you all again._

_Robin_

* * *

Somehow, Dick just couldn't write his real name for Raven. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was just he couldn't seem to manage it at that moment. He knew he wouldn't write his real name for Cyborg or Beast Boy either. But he knew Raven would probably be more understanding than the boys. Girls usually were.

Next, came Cyborg. Dick was getting more nervous as he began to start this letter. He felt clammed up a bit. Cyborg was an awesome buddy, but this was definitely going to get harder from here on out.

* * *

_Hey Cyborg,_

_Oh man, I can't believe it's been so long since we've gone against each other in a all night video gaming session. I miss hanging out with you. Just so you know, I'm doing just fine. I'm okay._

_Well, I really want to say how sorry I am over the whole Red X mess. I was an idiot. Don't I know it. I really should've trust you as my second in command and the others as my team members with such a dangerous plan. But I didn't and it failed. I failed. I totally screwed up with the whole 'trusting my friends' thing. I'm sorry._

_I really hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. I know it's a big thing, but you're still my friend. You know, you're kind of like the big brother I never had. You're funny, crazy, and super techie, but really you're also a mature team member that can always bring me back to reality. Not to mention you're an awesome video game buddy. I bet you're leading the team better than I did. You're a really great leader._

_Aha, so you're probably going nuts over the adoption. Seriously, you've got to hear me out, okay? I know it's crazy, but I can tell you that things happened over these past months._

_I'm doing well, so you don't have to worry. I did agree to the adoption. Slade didn't force me. Actually, it was the one thing that Slade gave me a real choice over. It's really impossible to explain everything that has happened between us, but I discovered a lot of things about Slade and I found out that he isn't as bad as we thought. I learned about his past and I watched him. Cy, he's a real person, an enigma, too. He's highly intelligent. It took time, but I've found that I actually want to learn what he has to offer._

_Yeah, you're probably thinking I've completely lost it. Who knows, maybe I have. But if I have, I sort of don't want to find it, if you get my meaning. Slade becoming my father is one of those crazy, yet right decisions in my life. Everything's fine and I hope you're all doing okay._

_I'll definitely be back someday._

_Robin_

* * *

Dick set the letter aside, biting his lip worriedly. He knew Cyborg wouldn't like this whole thing. He'd probably be the most vocal against it, in fact. He hoped he was able to relay his feelings on the matter, but he wasn't sure. Honestly, Dick really didn't want to say more to Cyborg. It felt weird telling his buddy about his deepest feelings about Slade. It was just different than Starfire. Hopefully though, Cyborg would be able to understand.

Last of his friends came Beast Boy's letter. This one was probably a little easier than Cyborg's letter. Beast Boy tended to roll with things. He'd be indignant for a bit, complain a lot; but once he realized the truth, Dick would be able to convince the changeling of the good.

* * *

_Hey Beast Boy,_

_I hope you're doing well. I can't tell you enough how much I miss you guys. I'm doing just fine, so you don't have to worry. I really miss the simple things, like just going out for a pizza. And what I wouldn't give to just hear one more of your silly jokes._

_I want to tell you how sorry I am about Red X. I was a total idiot. I really should've put my trust in my friends, but instead I went out on my own and messed everything up. For a guy that thinks things through, I wasn't thinking straight at all. I'm also really sorry about your hair, BB._

_I hope you'll forgive me. You've been the light hearted member, always one to try to lighten things up. Thanks for that. I hope you won't hate me for this, but I've always seen you as a little brother to me. Someone I've got to look out for, but someone who can always remind me of the funnier side of life. You're awesome, buddy._

_And I bet you're wondering what the heck is going on with this whole adoption thing, aren't you? It's a long story, but hear me out? So much has happened since I've been gone._

_Well, Slade's been pretty decent actually. Interesting thing to say about one's kidnapper. But Slade no longer feels that way to me anymore. He's become a man, a human, someone who has a lot to offer in the ways of knowledge and stability. I'm not sure if I ever imagined I'd think of Slade as stable, considering I always thought of him as a madman and a psycho._

_But he's not. And I've learned that during these past months. I don't think I could've learned to understand the man in any other type of environment. Funny it took this crazy situation to learn more than I ever imagined I would about Slade. You know I was always driven to learn what I could about the man. Who knew it'd take something like this to learn things, but they were things I never knew existed._

_I know it's nuts, but I think it's a good kind of nuts. No, I'm not possessed or been replaced by a radioactive zombie, BB. Just trust me on this, okay?_

_I'm sure I'll see you all soon._

_Robin_

* * *

Dick smiled to himself. He knew it would take some time for Beast Boy to wrap his brain around this, but he believed in his younger friend. Beast Boy was pretty flexible, luckily. He truly hoped that Beast Boy would be understanding once he read the letter.

With the last of his friends' letters complete, Dick had a far harder task ahead of himself: Alfred's letter and Bruce's letter. Dick decided to start with the lesser of the difficulties and write Alfred's first. He knew the old British butler would be a bit more understanding than Bruce; not to mention there weren't old wounds to deal with.

* * *

_Dear Alfred,_

_You've probably heard lots of things lately from Bruce. I really hope you haven't been worrying too much about me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing just fine, great in fact. I haven't been this great in a long time. You might've heard stories from Bruce, but there's no need to worry. The man that adopted me is a decent guy once you get to know him. It's the getting to know him that's the hard part._

_But I'm glad I did. I wouldn't have it any other way now. _

_I wanted to tell you how thankful I am to you. You really took care of me when Bruce wasn't available or just couldn't. You did your best with a little, difficult kid. I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble or grief._

_I'm sorry you got caught in the fight with me and Bruce. I didn't mean to leave you behind, too. It just sort of happened that way. I promise that I'll keep in contact more often soon. No more loner, no more secrets. I promise. I think you'd be proud of who I've grown to become. I'm even pretty impressed and proud of myself._

_And I know it'll just get better from here on out._

_So, know that I'm doing well. I'm safe. I'm happy. And I've got someone who will look after me. The man who adopted me is really good. I know there's a lot of bad things that people will say and I know that he hasn't made all the right choices in life, but I still think he's got a whole lot of good inside. And I'm glad I was able to find it through all the bad._

_Thanks for everything, Alfred. I'll keep in touch._

_Dick_

* * *

Dick set aside Alfred's letter before grabbing one more piece of paper. He took a deep breath and looked at the glaringly white paper. It stared back; still blank as ever. Dick wanted to write, but he wasn't sure how to start. The feelings of his heart over Bruce were in turmoil. There was so much he wanted to say, so much that he wanted to ask. Why? Why hadn't he come back for him? Why did the man fire him? Didn't he know how much that had meant to Dick?

So many whys.

But somehow, the past just didn't seem as bad at that very moment. There was a hand resting on the back of his neck. Almost as if sensing the stress that Dick's heart was going through at that moment, Slade had rested his hand on Dick's neck. The man wasn't even looking at him, just still reading his paper. But that hand was more than enough to say that he was aware and knew what Dick was thinking and feeling – and that he was there for Dick.

Warmth flooded through Dick; starting at his neck and slipping down his back, all the way down to his toes – the warmth filling every section of his body and soul. Newfound courage began to fill Dick, all gathered from the warmth that the hand produced; but really from the fact that he had someone watching over him who cared.

One who actually cared a lot.

Dick touched pen to paper.

* * *

_Dear Bruce,_

_There are so many things I want to say and yet, somehow they get jumbled up in my mind, only to be lost to me. I have a lot of mixed feelings about us. I'm so thankful that you took me in when I had no one. Sometimes I think you just did it out of duty and responsibility, and even if that's the case, it's okay. I'm still very thankful for that. You saved me from an orphanage. I know I'd be nowhere near where I am today without you._

_That being said, I have to say I hate the way we parted. I'm mad, hurt, and lonely because of what happened. I know you were just trying to be protective of me, but you were also suffocating me. You wanted to take away the very thing that kept me sane and alive. When you fired me and said there was no more Batman and Robin, that I wasn't needed, it broke my heart. It was the worst feeling I've ever had. I don't think I've ever been able to get over that._

_To be honest, I had really hoped you would come back to Jump City to drag my butt back to Gotham._

_But you never came. I was waiting and waiting for you, but you never came. I'll admit, I cried when I realized you weren't coming for me. But I understand, though, that you probably had a lot on your plate in Gotham City. I know you have people to protect and they're counting on you. You're Batman, after all._

_I guess it just comes down to the fact that we clash a bit too much. You're more aloof than I am, more of a loner. No matter how much I want to reach out to you, there are times that I feel you're just not capable of reaching out to me in return._

_And in the beginning of this recent capture, I did wonder at times if you were even looking for me. If you weren't, don't tell me. I rather think of you in a better light. I honestly don't think I could bear the thought that you never once tried to look for me._

_I really hope you don't take this all the wrong way. It's just been a long journey and I've taken the time to see the poor choices I've done in my life. I've done some pretty stupid things and disobeying you was one of them. I was the child and you were the adult. I should've listened. For that, I'm really sorry. I really should've trusted your judgment._

_There are a few things that I've learned I need to change. Sadly, they're things I've learned from you. But because of them, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I destroyed the trust of my team. Keeping secrets, avoiding trusting others, work driven, these things are good, but you need a balance. I just wasn't able to keep that balance. I ended up pushing away my friends in my drive. And you know, I had been so determined to prove to you that friends didn't drag you down or put you in danger._

_Instead, I ended up dragging them down. If I ever get the chance again to be the leader of the Teen Titans, I know I'll be a better leader now. I'm not going to keep secrets anymore. I'm going to trust my team members better next time. Well, if there is a next time._

_There's something else that I've learned. The strict line of Hero and Villain is a deception. There are no heroes and there are no villains. There are only people who make good choices or poor choices. We all do it. We all make our good choices and we all make our poor choices. It's the collection of our choices that shows who we are as a person. I truly hope that I'll be able to collect far better choices in the future. I've made enough poor choices to last me a lifetime. But since I'm human, like everyone else, I'll probably make more. Hopefully, I'll be able to catch myself before I fall in too deep._

_Speaking of choices, I've made a really important one. To some people, they'd think it's crazy or stupid. But that's because they don't know what I know. Yes, I talking about the adoption. Knowing you, you probably know that Slade Wilson is Slade or Deathstroke, the very man that kidnapped me seven months ago._

_It's a long story, a really amazing one. It shows that everyone can change. I've seen it for myself or I wouldn't have believed it. I've watched these past months the change that I've undergone and the one that Slade has undergone. I think we're better people because of it. Everything is better now. You might think I'm crazy and you're probably right. But I'm not under any trauma, though. I've made this decision all on my own. I wasn't forced. Actually, choosing to accept Slade's offer to adopt me was the one thing he gave me a choice on. But I had already said yes long before he offered. My mind isn't playing tricks on me and my heart is too strong to be deceived. I know what I see and I know what I feel._

_Slade and I, we care about each other now. Despite who he is and who I am, we've come to an understanding like no other. I believe the future has nothing but bright times ahead. Sure there are some things the two of us have to work out, but that's a problem I've taken on by accepting this man as my father. I know that it'll all work out. I won't lose myself. That's what family is all about, after all._

_Yes, he did hurt me during the first month, I'll admit that. But he changed for the better and I've accepted that. Yes, he's taken me away from the world for a time, but to be honest, now that I know what I've received from it, I'd go through it all over again. The end was worth it. Coming to this understanding is a precious gift to me. I'll never regret it._

_In some ways, Slade and I have reached something I don't think you and I could've, but that doesn't mean I never wanted to. I did. I wanted to connect with you more, but it just wasn't fate. It looks like a different destiny was prepared for me and I have to say that I truly am thankful for it._

_Bruce, I want to tell you that I am eternally grateful to you. Because of you, I was saved from a bad fate. My education would've been stunted probably. I would've been angry at the world and my parents' killer. My heart would've turn black with my hatred. You took me in and channeled that hate right out of me. I did know in my heart right from wrong, but you reminded me. I would've forgotten my mother's words and they are too precious to forget._

_I'm doing well. I'm doing great, actually. I'm so happy, you can't even begin to imagine. I've a got few things I still need to work out with Slade, but I have no doubt that everything will be wonderful from here on out. I still have my hopes and dreams. Just because I have a new father doesn't mean my heart has changed in my aspirations._

_I just have someone to help, protect, and guide me along the way, someone I can lean on. Not just physically, but emotionally, too._

_Thank you so much for everything._

_Dick_

* * *

Tears were freely streaming down Dick's face by the end of writing Bruce's letter. He had to be very careful not to let the hot droplets slip onto the paper. Dick was eternally thankful that the hand on his neck never left. It anchored him. He needed it so much and he was very grateful that such things were coming more and more easily for Slade. He knew the man wasn't exactly a cuddly guy – that'd probably be frightening; but then again, Dick would love it. Luckily, the man still did show forth affection in small simple ways and Dick always soaked them up happily like a dry sponge.

Maybe soon, Dick could train the man to start initiating hugs, but that might put the man into an overload – _probably_.

If he had thought he'd put his heart into Starfire's letter, Bruce's letter proved him wrong. All the pain of the past had surfaced as he wrote. But then, as he wrote down each word, the pain seemed to slip away; his soul finally releasing those old wounds. His tears seemed to finally release all that bottled pain that he had stored inside his heart. The scars were now healing with a cleansing swipe. He could've never articulated this in person, but as the pen ink flowed beneath his hand, the words flowed from his heart with ease.

There was so much that amazed him. Dick could visibly see his own growth in this letter alone. A year ago, he would've never been able to write this. He would've felt the pain, the irreparable wound, the solitude in a far too overpowering feeling. He'd never be able to admit his faults, his weaknesses, or the things he could do better. The only area he ever pushed himself to become better had always been physically; pushing his body to its limits so that he could become a better fighter.

But becoming a better person, a better leader hadn't ever crossed his mind. Never would he had admitted that he needed to depend on other people and especially not an adult. But that was because he had never truly had one there for him during the years he needed one the most.

What did the future hold now? What kind of man would he become now? If he hadn't experienced this, would he have become like a mini Bruce? A reclusive, work driven, serious guy who never really depended on the hearts of others?

But the more Dick saw the difference, the more he didn't want that. He wanted to rely on others. He wanted to need others. He loved his friends. He wanted to be with them, work with them, play with them, grow with them, develop into the adults that they were meant to become. He also wanted to learn more things from Slade. More than anything, he wanted to make this man proud.

Hopefully, Slade would one day allow Dick to become who he was meant to be. Slade had changed, had come this far with him, after all; thus, anything was possible.

Wasn't it?

Dick collected the six letters together, feeling their weight for a moment. So much heart resided inside these letters; he knew he put a _lot_ into them. In the back of his mind as he wrote them, he knew that Slade would read them. He wasn't afraid of what he felt or what he had to say. Perhaps they would even touch the man's heart. Dick knew it was possible.

But that certainly didn't mean he wanted to watch the man read them.

The boy slid the completed letters to Slade; looking up at him with glistening eyes. Slade wordlessly accepted them.

"Thanks for letting me write these and sending them for me," said Dick, truly looking grateful. Slade noticed there were trails of tears on the boy's face. "I'm going to go to my room for a few minutes, is that okay? I'll be back soon for lunch."

Slade nodded quietly and withdrew his hand. Dick gave him a soft smile and stood up; turning away to walk down the hallway and out of sight.

Slade had watched the boy out of the corner of his eye as he wrote those letters. It intrigued him. The facial expression on Dick's face changed and flittered constantly. He went from happy, to concerned, to sad, to worried, to fearful, and then finally to a strong, powerful stance – even through the overflowing tears. Slade noticed the strength that entered the boy's eyes once he was done, almost as if he had been completely renewed.

Slade looked at the first letter. He doubted that the boy put any hidden messages inside these letters. The emotions that had flashed over the boy's face was more than enough to tell Slade that. But the boy had said that he could read them, and so Slade didn't see any reason why he shouldn't.

The first letter surprised him. It was to the alien girl, Starfire. Slade was amazed by how much Dick revealed his feelings to the girl. He was honest and open about himself. Slade had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The boy probably fancied her in a romantic sense; though the boy probably didn't even know it yet. Somehow Slade couldn't help the panic that started to eat at his chest. He was _not_ ready for that kind of stuff. No, for the love of all that was holy, _no!_

Slade's hands trembled against the paper once he reached the second to last paragraph. He knew the boy had a huge heart, but reading it in black and white was quite humbling. Could Slade say the same thing? He hadn't been one to say such things easily with his first family. What made him think he could do so now? Besides, Slade wasn't sure what to make of everything. Yes, the boy was his son now. Yes, he cared about the boy.

But love?

Slade set the letter aside, a little unnerved by it; but completely impressed by it nonetheless.

As Slade read the next few letters to the other Titans and the bat's butler, Slade noticed that Starfire was the only one of his four friends that the boy had signed his real name. The more he read, the more Slade was impressed by the boy's character. Slade always knew Dick was a strong kid, but he was now overcome by the knowledge that he wasn't just athletically or mentally strong; the boy was also emotionally strong. A powerful sense of pride filled Slade's chest. He knew it wasn't through his working with the boy that made him like that, but Slade was still proud of him.

Were those fatherly feelings already in such working order now?

Slade glared at the letter to Bruce for a few moments. For some reason, anytime that _bat_ was mentioned, something inside Slade twisted in his gut. It just irked him. Thus, he was left glaring at the letter; willing it to combust into flames. Too bad he didn't have that ability. But Dick would also be very upset if his letter had been set ablaze.

But it still didn't stop Slade from briefly imagining it.

However, as Slade started reading the letter, he was grateful he didn't have such a power. It would've been a terrible waste. There was so much heart and feeling in this letter; Slade was shocked by the contents. He could feel the pain that Dick expressed, but he could also see the maturity that the boy held. Yet again, Slade was thoroughly impressed with it.

Slade swallowed, overcome with a bout of emotion of his own as he set the finished letter down. He was amazed by Dick's words about the two of them. There was such strength and belief in them. The boy truly did look forward to a bright future for them – expected it, desired it, _needed_ it. Slade was also very aware that the boy was depending on him to be there for him with anything and everything.

Dick fully saw Slade as his father now.

Slade stood up and quickly walked down the hallway; leaving behind the letters that held so much feeling, so much beauty. As Slade came to Dick's door, he heard the soft sound of crying. Slade gently opened the door without a sound, slipping into the room silently. Dick was sitting on his bed, his knees curled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head was face down into his knees; his shoulders shaking lightly from his sobs.

Slade quietly walked to the bed and softly sat down on the edge next to Dick. There was a small intake of breath in surprise as Dick's head popped up. His crystal blue eyes were glistening with his tears; his long black eyelashes wet and shimmering with cries. Dick quickly rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes; trying to clear any reminder that he'd been crying.

"Wha—" Dick hiccupped once, followed up by a deep blush that rose in his face. He hid face in his hands as if completely embarrassed by his sobs. There was a long moment, before the boy's voice was heard again.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be—" There was another hiccup before Dick hurried to clear his face of his tears. He continued to keep his face hidden. Then, after a moment, he whispered softly, "Wha–what are you doing in here?"

"I read your letters."

"Oh…"

"I wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm fine."

Slade tilted his head to the side, a smirk lifting his lips. He took a hand and gently set it beneath Dick's chin. He slowly, but gently, forced the boy to look up at him.

"_I don't believe you_," breathed Slade.

Dick averted his eyes and then shrugged.

"I really am fine," whispered Dick, further tears slipping down his cheeks. "I shouldn't be crying."

The boy fell quiet; his breathing shuddering at times from his soft sobs. Despite the strength that Slade had seen the boy gather when he finished writing the letters, it was more than obvious that the boy was emotionally spent – drained beyond anything.

Slade maneuvered himself onto the bed; leaning against the back of the bed at the wall. He placed his hand onto the boy's back and began to soothingly rub him. He just remained there, giving Dick what Slade knew he always wanted and needed: a gentle hand.

"It's okay to cry, Dick."

There was a shuddering relief that flowed over Dick. He set his chin onto his knees and closed his eyes. His breathing calmed and the tears stopped completely. Slade didn't move, keeping his rubbing hand on the boy's back. He let Dick soak up the comfort that he so desperately needed and most definitely deserved.

And Slade was more than content to give it to him.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Four: Renewed Wings – After much argument, Dick is allowed to go out on a mission on his own – but not before Slade swallows his enormous pride and tells Dick something very important.

**Author's Notes:** Heh, seems like Slade's ultimate weakness is the PUPPY EYES! Who'da thought? Hehehehe… I love this chapter. WARM FUZZIES ALL AROUND. *melts happily* Gosh, now the fluff can officially begin. XD

Man, huge chapter. Ah, but writing those letters were hard. Basically saying the same thing 6 times, yet in different ways _and_ show the difference of his feelings with each person. Similar to Dick, I was actually excited to write that letter with Bruce, but also blanked out on how to compose it with him. Wow, what fun.

And not to mention, the punctuation drove me nuts. But high school grad or not, I just didn't see Dick really using semi colons and hyphens in his letters like I use in my style. Honestly, what 14 year old really thinks about punctuation in a heart felt letter? I know 18 year olds who blow it off and they're excellent authors. XD

Next week is gonna be fun. Yup yup. :3

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	44. Renewed Wings

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. You guys are wonderful and I'm really glad you're still enjoying the story. ^^

I have a wise reason why sickness/illness might be rampant at this time. It's… FLIPPING HOT. _Good grief_, this weather is insanity! I mean we're getting 90 degree to 100 degree weather where I am. What nonsense is this? Stay cool everyone! Time to go underground! XD Oh, man. I hate the summer. I miss my winter days where I left my window open 24/7 – yes, even in 30 degree weather.

So, a little change in the chapter numbering _just_ occurred with this chapter. Originally, first draft was like 10k and ya'll know me with my editing. Welp, it made it big – too big. Thus, as per a dear question: we have 9 chapters left. (Including this one) I'll be posting 4 times this week (was supposed to be 3) and 5 times next week. ^^

And you know, even if _Forgotten Bonds_ ends, that doesn't mean the story ends there, right? You never know what the future might hold, right? You never know how crazy Anthy is when it comes to these characters. After all, I've grown deeply attached to these two. I doubt I'll ever want them to shut up. *slowly hides her notepad filled with outlines of oneshots ideas and sequel idea*

What? Nothing to see here. Carry on, folks. _Shoo, shoo_.

*whistle innocently*

Now, let the arc begin. :3

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Four**

**Renewed Wings**

**March 12th, 2009. Thursday, 8:03 pm.**

Four days.

That was how many days Dick had been a son and that was how many days he now had a father.

Yes, he was keeping track. He loved the very thought of it. There were nagging thoughts in the back of his mind that reminded him about what Bruce would say and what his friends would think, but he did his very best to push those thoughts away. He just wanted to bask in the wonderful moment, the wonderful feelings.

It was strange at times to think about Slade as his father. After so many years of not having one, Dick wasn't exactly sure what think anymore or how to act around the man. It'd only been four days and he wasn't exactly ready to call Slade anything other than 'Slade' just yet.

But he found himself more comfortable with the man. He no longer felt the need to be reserved or hold himself back. If he wanted to be close to the man, he could be. He realized that during his time here, Slade had been the one to extend himself and offer the physical affection or reassurances. Dick hadn't really once ever been the one to initiate it besides those impulsive hugs of his – and those were huge things, not simple gestures of a touch on the arm or otherwise.

Somehow, the adoption unlocked his reserved feelings; completely allowing himself to be like he always was with his friends – but, of course, that also fully showed respect to the man that was now his father. A father was to be revered, respected, and obeyed. But it also meant a comfortable familiarity that was specially available to father and son.

And Dick latched onto it with all his heart.

While he had begun to get used to being stuck here, it was the adoption that changed Dick's thought process completely. He didn't view this place as his prison in a capture anymore, but viewed it as a home; a real home that he could claim as his own.

There was a soft feeling in his heart that told him that he was no longer a captive. He knew it. He also knew that change took time and it would probably take Slade some time before he'd let Dick go out and perhaps visit his friends. He wasn't sure when that'd happen, though.

Just somehow, he knew it _would_ happen.

But in some ways, after seven months of being hidden away from the world, there was a frightened feeling inside Dick's heart. He was nervous about his friends and what they would say about this whole thing. He really didn't feel like arguing with them or trying to explain everything to them. That was what the letters were for, after all. And Dick didn't even want to _think_ about what Bruce would berate about it – since the man would _berate_, not _say_.

He almost felt like a little child who wanted to hide behind his father's legs; a child who would hide and peer out from behind the safety of such strength. But that was so silly, feeling that way. Wasn't he supposed to be Robin? Wasn't he supposed to be all brave and stuff? But to be honest, he wasn't 'Robin' anymore. He was just 'Dick' now. After so many years of burying that boy, he had risen to the surface and returned full force.

There were still parts of Robin inside Dick, but generally, that boy was gone in many ways. Or rather, melded the best qualities into Dick. He still liked to joke around with silly puns, still loved to play mischievous pranks, still loved to hang out with his friends, still enjoyed video games, and still could kick bad guy butt like no tomorrow – actually even better now through Slade's tutelage. But the driven, fully focused, determined, reclusive, serious, hardened boy that was Robin had long disappeared.

The boy that was left in his place was Dick; the highly sensitive, shy, timid boy who loved hugs and affection, who wanted to please, who always wished for normalcy – who always wished for a family. Compared to Robin, Dick could rely on others better. He was more balanced when it came to his decisions. Dick was fully sure that if he ever returned to the Titans, he'd be a much better leader now. Yeah, so he was a bit of a softy at times, but in a way, he liked the feeling of letting his tears fall compared to the feeling of that tightened lump in his throat that completely held them back.

Somehow, the knot that had always been inside his stomach had unloosened; releasing him from its paralyzing hold.

But Dick was different than Robin. How could he explain all this to his friends? They'd definitely want to ask questions, even with the letters that he'd sent. They would want to know how Robin, who _hated_ and _despised_ Slade, came to care about the man enough to become adopted by him. Robin had always fought against the man; always tried to bring him down – how could he get to the point of changing so much?

Well, that was because Robin didn't quite have Dick's forgiving, loving, sensitive heart.

Time. That's what Dick needed; _time_. He needed time for those letters to settle into the minds of his friends. He needed time for them to realize that everything would be all right now. And he really needed more time with Slade as a father and son – more time to open the future in its expanse of bright things. It'd only been four days and Dick could already see small differences surfacing.

He just needed more time.

Funny how most things in life don't always go how one wished it would.

It was after dinner that Dick softly walked back into the kitchen; his socked covered feet making no sounds against the floor. He stopped to see Slade studying something from off an electronic tablet, his back to him. With a smile, Dick carefully eased up to the man; employing every measure of stealth he possessed. Then, he flopped his arms onto the man's left shoulder. He was rewarded with a very slight startle from the man.

"Dick," said Slade, glancing back up to him. Dick grinned as he continued to lean his folded arms on Slade's shoulder; allowing himself to enjoy the moment of finally reaching out with something so simple.

"I surprised you," said Dick in a triumphant voice.

"You most certainly did not," said Slade, the side of his mouth twitching slightly. Dick didn't miss it.

"I _sooo_ did," said Dick in a playful, taunting tone. "Admit it, Slade. You weren't expecting me."

"I was in deep concentration."

"Same thing," smirked Dick. There was a low mutter from Slade that sounded very much like 'little imp' and Dick did his best to hold back a giggle. Dick rested his head on his arms; enjoying the moment of just being close to Slade and glad the man hadn't told him to get off yet.

"Will went grocery shopping tonight and is mailing those letters of yours," said Slade after a moment.

"Oh, good. Thanks for allowing me—"

"It's perfectly acceptable to mail letters, Dick," said Slade, overriding him. "I'll not begrudge you from writing letters. You may do so at any time now."

A soft smile spread through Dick's features. He tilted his head to the side, lightly leaning on Slade's head and resting there. He mentally thanked Slade for that as well; seeing another glimpse of change. He breathed in once, deeply breathing in the musky, rustic cologne that Slade always used. He leaned further to look over the man's shoulder. A moment later, his eyes caught sight of a picture of a little girl on the tablet.

"Who's she?"

Slade let out a low sigh as he set the tablet onto the table. He folded his arms as he stared at the picture.

"A contract in the area. She's the daughter of a CEO and has been kidnapped so that a merger won't occur."

Dick's heart quickened excitedly. Another contract – it was another contract! Perhaps Slade would let him do this on his own – it was nearby, after all. He could prove his worth as the man's apprentice, although he realized that Slade saw his worth already. But it seemed simple enough.

"It's sounds like an easy job," said Dick, pulling his voice to sound easy natured, yet confident; completely trying to act as if this was a nonchalant event. "Why don't you let me do it?"

"No way," said Slade flatly, shaking his head once. Dick frowned, lifting his head up. That answer came way too quick.

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Come on, Slade!" cried Dick, jumping back; his fists clenching in his frustration. "You know how I feel when you say that. Why can't you just explain it better?"

Slade remained silent as he turned in his chair to look at him; a stern light flashing in his eye. Dick tried very hard to control his emotions. He didn't want this to turn out like the last time where he ended up being on the receiving end of the man's iron hand. If he talked to Slade civilly, then maybe the man would come around this time.

"Is it that it's dangerous? You think it's another setup?" asked Dick, dropping his tone to be more respectful; his fists unclenching.

"No, I was able to see an image of the little girl before they took her to a secure location," said Slade with a shake of his head. "She really has been kidnapped."

"Then, why won't you let me do this?" asked Dick, a little more insistently. "Is all that training you've been putting me through for nothing?"

"It's not for nothing—"

"Then, let me prove myself," said Dick, overriding the man. Slade exhaled in an audible sigh. There was a long moment where Dick calmly waited for the man to speak. He was disappointed, however, by the response.

"Not this time."

Bile rose up inside Dick's chest. Why couldn't the man let him go? What was the man afraid of? Did Slade forget who he was? He was Robin, the Boy Wonder for crying out loud! He could take care of himself – he had for a few years now. What, did Slade really think that a few months away from the job would make Dick lose his touch? What kind of crap was that?

"What are you so afraid of?" demanded Dick, his hands slowly returning to their clenching.

"That is a ridiculous question," said Slade, his tone turning dangerous.

"I don't think it is," retorted Dick, folding his arms. "It's pretty logical if you think about it. This is a simple easy contract and you won't let me prove myself."

"I don't need you to prove yourself."

"Isn't this what you wanted?" asked Dick, pressing on. "For me to go on missions and contracts as your partner and heir? I can't really do that if you keep me locked up in here."

"I am _not_ keeping you locked up!" snapped Slade heatedly, looking completely unsettled. Dick raised his eyebrow.

_Well_, in a way, Slade _was_ still keeping him locked up. Dick had only been able to go out once and that had been with Slade's supervision. Was Slade feeling guilty for keeping Dick imprisoned all this time? Well, then; why not let him out on the contract? It was an easy job. Dick could get the girl and bring her to safety in no time flat. It was something he could do in his _sleep_.

So, why was Slade so hesitant? What was holding him back? What was he so worried about? Didn't he believe in Dick? Surely after telling him so many times of his worth, there had to be something more here.

Dick watched Slade carefully. He had never seen the man like this. Slade appeared clouded and hesitant, as if he were trying to hide his feelings but couldn't quite manage it properly. It was as if he knew what he was feeling was absurd, but he just couldn't help it.

What if…

_No way._

Was Slade feeling…

"You still think I'm going to leave you the first chance I can, don't you?" asked Dick in a soft undertone, his arms dropping slowly.

There was a subtle startle that rippled through Slade. It was faint, but Dick saw it. The man didn't answer, but glanced to the side slightly – almost as if he were avoiding Dick's eyes. The man's face was completely impassive, yet there was still that uncertain hint of his insecurities.

Well, that just infuriated Dick.

"Well, I'm not," snapped Dick; deciding to set the record straight.

This had to be completely stupid. After the man _adopted_ Dick, did he honestly think that Dick would jump ship first sight of fresh air? This was now Dick's _home_; there was no way he'd ever leave this man. He was his _father_ now. What son would run away from his father? Especially after years of not having one! And it didn't matter the trials ahead; Dick knew with all his heart they could get through them together.

"I _live_ here now," said Dick firmly. "Sure, there are some things I don't want to do. There are some things we'll have a difference of opinion. But guess what? Everybody does – every _family_ does. You don't have to feel that you have to hold me captive here anymore, because I'll _always_ come back."

"Dick…"

Slade still looked hesitant. Geez, since when was _this_ man slow?

"You just don't get it!" growled Dick. He dug into his jeans' pocket, bringing out a slightly rumpled piece of paper and slamming it onto the table.

"Look at it!" demanded Dick, pointing at it. Slade raised an eyebrow, but he didn't comment over Dick's fierce attitude. He grabbed the paper and unfolded it. His grey blue eye widened as he looked at the paper, before he turned his gaze back to Dick.

"What…"

"I've been carrying that with me ever since you gave me a copy."

"Why?"

"_Why? _Why do you think!?" cried Dick, his chest constricting slightly as the feelings of his heart poured forth.

Why couldn't this man understand it? How could he not understand just how important all this was to him? After so many years of loneliness, how could Slade not realize just how important he'd become to Dick?

Having a father was the most vital thing in the world to Dick.

"It's one of the most important things in my life now!" cried Dick, his chest heaving once as he spoke. "It's proof that I'm wanted. I'm not just some orphan or some rich charity case. I'm _wanted_. Not because someone has to take responsibility for me; not because I'm famous or anything; not because I'm wanted for my skills; no, it's because little `ol me, _Dick Grayson_, is wanted. I finally have a family again. I don't care what happened in the beginning anymore. Yeah, it was messed up, but I only want to look towards a brighter future now—" Dick pointed at the man. "—a future where _you're_ my father! So, let's just start over, okay?"

Dick stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Hi. I'm Richard Grayson, but you can just call me Dick. Thank you for adopting me, sir. I'll try to be a good son to you; the best I can be."

Slade's eye widened to an incredible amount as his eyebrows shot up. His mouth lowered slightly as he stared at Dick and then at his proffered hand. Dick smirked and put his other hand to his mouth as if he were whispering; leaning forward slightly.

"This is the part where you shake my hand and tell me your name."

Slade gave him one of his 'I am not amused one bit' looks. But a much larger hand clasped Dick's hand, nearly engulfing it.

"Slade Wilson. And… I am pleased to have you… for a son."

Dick gave a sharp approving nod before he released the handshake. He folded his arms and sent a firm glare onto the man.

"Well, now that you know I'm not going anywhere, why don't you let me go on that mission?"

Slade rolled his eye and sighed heavily.

"Look, it isn't just that—"

"Then, what is it?" demanded Dick. "You know very well I can handle myself – even before all the training you've given me. Just what is making you hold back? _C`mon_, Slade; just what is going on here?!"

"Respect," drawled Slade with a slight glint in his eye, yet his tone was light. Dick nodded instantly and tried to settle down, but his heart was pounding too much in his chest to do that. He just couldn't understand why Slade was still acting like this.

Why couldn't the man let Dick be useful to him?

There was a long moment while Slade watched him. Dick didn't move much, only shifting his weight once as he stared back at Slade.

Then, Slade stood up. Dick didn't move or back up. Slade clamped a gentle hand on Dick's neck and maneuvered him out of the kitchen down the hallway. Dick didn't think he had said anything that warranted the man to punish him, but he couldn't help feeling nervous as he was forced towards his bedroom. Shouldn't the man warn him? There wasn't any major anger coming from the man, either; but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Slade had gotten better with his temper. Dick kept his mouth shut, though. He wasn't in the wrong here and if he had to fight, he'd do it right at the moment.

But that didn't stop his mouth from going drier by the moment.

Slade stopped outside Dick's bedroom door and pushed him forward. Dick turned to look at the man with a questioning expression. Smirking, Slade nodded to his room in a jerky hard nod.

"Get suited up. Be in my room in four minutes for a debriefing or I'm changing my mind."

Dick's face lit up as he smiled at Slade. It spread into a grin as he nodded and darted into his room before shouting out an excited, "Yes, sir!"

Slade shook his head as he watched the boy bolt away happily. He could hear the scrambles of the boy as he hurried to get dressed. Slade's expression softened as he thought of the recent conversation. There was a deep glowing warmth in his heart at that moment.

What Dick said earlier had to be the most touching thing Slade had ever heard. How could the boy be so forgiving? How could he forget that first month? It had been so easy for him to get attached to Slade, to bond with him, grow to care about him, and even grow to love him. Hadn't the boy actually _cried_ when he'd thought Slade was dead?

But how could've it been so easy for him?

And now he wanted to stay; learn by Slade's side. The admiration and respect were apparent in his eyes. He viewed Slade as his father now – although, Slade never expected nor would demand from Dick such a title or term. But it was obvious that Dick submitted to his authority without question; and not because of fear, but respect.

Something deep glowed inside Slade's heart and he couldn't help but let out a light chuckle. Shaking his head, he walked to his room. It was strangely mind boggling this whole thing. It was still taking Slade time to get used to. This boy with those bright, eager blue eyes wasn't just the apprentice he had chosen seven months ago.

No, this boy was someone who formed a deep placing inside Slade's heart; one that could never be removed now. Slade fully claimed it now: _that boy was his son_. Every part of his soul accepted it. His fourth child now.

_Ah…_

Hadn't Wintergreen mentioned that before Christmas? Just how perceptive was that old man anyways?

No matter. If the old man had waited for such an outcome, Slade could only smile to it. At that moment, any other outcome would've been terrible to Slade. He didn't want anything to be different. Not a thing.

Well, except one thing.

Slade deeply wished that the first month hadn't happened. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to push it away and ignore it completely – pretend it never happened. But something inside Slade nagged at him. After coming to such a height in his relationship with the boy, Slade couldn't help but feel revolted at himself for his actions against him – an emotion he hadn't felt in _years_.

Yes, Slade knew he had been doing exactly what he thought he needed to do to keep Dick obedient. Nothing could change the past – no matter how many times Slade dwelt on it. This wasn't as big in comparison to his greatest sin of all that bore its terrible weight on Slade – the one that destroyed his family. But he still felt sickened. He still felt regretful that he had been another thing to cause pain to that boy in such a way.

_However_, it didn't mean he'd stop disciplining the boy as he had been the past six months – spanking that boy was far different than beating him. Getting his backside walloped was a good way to teach the boy certain things. It had undeniably created a healthy fearful respect towards Slade. Not fear in a bad way, but one that knew what was to come if he was unruly. Because of it, Dick learned to be respectful, to become more in control over himself; but also to become comfortable with Slade and to trust his word – fear of punishment was not fear of the punisher.

But remembering the glistening terror that filled those crystal blue eyes when Slade struck the boy was more than enough to make Slade sick at that moment.

How on earth did that boy go from fearing him to _loving_ him? Just what was in that boy's heart to allow such a stunning turnabout? Who was Slade to deserve such humanity? It was incomprehensible. Such amnesty was something Slade had never considered for others. How could the boy offer something like that so easily to one who had done nothing but harm him in the beginning days?

Maybe the boy had forgotten…

Foolish thought.

Slade sighed, walking over to a cabinet that stood next to his computer desk. He opened it and began choosing a number of different guns. He felt uneasy letting the boy out of his sight, as if there was a possibility that something bad could happened to him.

Like what had happened to Grant.

Was he becoming overprotective now? Probably. It was getting worse, too. It was becoming a twisting, nervous feeling in his gut. Slade hated that feeling. He really should just lock the boy up and throw away the key so he wouldn't have to experience such a feeling. It was enough to give one indigestion.

Slade glanced at one of his guns that he used less often. The boy would probably put up a fuss over having to take a gun, but Slade was adamant on it. He'd feel a bit at ease if the boy did so. But Slade didn't want to destroy that innocence. He didn't expect Dick to pull the trigger, but enemies thought twice about messing with someone who had a gun in their hands that was pointed at said enemy's head. With a sigh, he grabbed that other gun, too; placing both onto his computer desk.

Just in case the boy put up _too_ much of a fuss over a normal gun.

Slade heard a door slam and a second later, Dick burst into the room. Slade turned around and smiled slightly at the boy's appearance. The boy was wearing his apprentice Kevlar suit; attaching the final piece of the metal plating onto his arm. He quickly adjusted the utility belt at his hip, his head down as he walked forward towards Slade. He was still adjusting it, not playing attention, when he bumped into Slade. The boy looked up at him and looked a bit sheepish.

"Sorry `bout that, Slade," said Dick, back up a pace and continued to fiddle with his belt.

A strong wave of bile rose in Slade's throat, thoughts of the past flooding over his consciousness. There was no sanctuary for him. He'd have to clear the air or there would be no peace for him. This much he knew; this much he acknowledged.

That still made this hard; _beyond_ difficult.

"Dick…" began Slade uncertainly. He let out an internal sigh. The boy looked up at him expectantly. He was literally radiating enthusiasm. The boy was so happy and excited that those bright blue eyes were overflowing with it.

"Yeah?"

There was a curious tilt of the head, making Slade avert his eye. Those baby blue eyes were doing it again, except they were startling in their strength of pure happiness.

"I wanted to tell you something," said Slade, keeping his tone serious and still averting his eye. He noticed the boy began to get nervous and a little frantic.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" asked Dick.

"No."

Slade took a deep breath and forced himself to look back at the boy. This had to be the hardest thing Slade had ever attempted. Swallowing his pride and admitting his fault was far harder than fighting an entire army with his bare hands.

"I wished to… That is…"

_Blast it all._

"I am truly sorry," said Slade finally. Well, he really needed a drink now; a good _stiff_ drink. Oh, but he couldn't, not while he had this child around.

"For what?" asked Dick, looking confused. Slade swallowed slightly, taking a deep breath.

"For the way I dealt with you during that first month," said Slade, gaining control and momentum to his words. "It was completely inappropriate and my actions were out of order. For this I wish to fully apologize to you."

There.

He managed to say it.

"But…" A further confused look crossed through Dick's face. Good grief, what was so difficult about understanding a blasted _apology?_ "But didn't you already apologize for that?"

Those eyes blinked up at Slade with innocence.

Oh bother.

"I did," said Slade with a nod. His chest heaved once. Time to own up to his fault. "However, I had apologized merely because I was sorry that it had not worked for my objective. I was not remorseful for my actions."

"Oh…"

"Yes, so… I am restating the apology."

"So, you're remorseful about it now?" asked Dick, his eyes turning sincere in their studying of him. Slade took another deep inhale as he gave the boy a firm nod of his head.

"I am," said Slade, lifting his chin as he looked down at the boy. His jaw clenched slightly.

Dick looked up at the man. There were so many emotions running through the man's face. Dick could tell that Slade was truly sorry about the first month now. But what he was really finding interesting was the look of deep pride that was written all over Slade's expression.

It pained Slade to swallow his pride. It was obvious that it wasn't something he did that often – _if ever_. And yet, there he was, biting back his pride to apologize to a fourteen year old. He was admitting he'd been wrong. Dick understood how hard that was. He hated admitting his mistakes, too. But he was younger and sometimes things came a little easier to younger minds.

Slade was truly making a great effort here.

What could Dick say to set the man at ease? It seemed as if no matter what he could say, the man wouldn't really believe him. Slade could be too realistic when it came to people. Dick doubted that the man would believe that he had long forgiven him over a month ago for that time he had been harsh with him.

Once he crossed the threshold of complete trust, it was then that Dick had fully forgiven Slade. Knowing that something like that would never return, it had been easy to forgive and forget. Knowing that Slade would keep his word, knowing that Slade would never strike him out of anger, knowing that Slade had changed for the better, knowing that there was stability and security in his life – all that anchored Dick and allowed his heart to heal with forgiveness.

But Slade didn't know that. There was no way he could fully understand it. The man still didn't fully understand just how much Dick appreciated him; how much he needed him. If Dick hadn't been able to forgive, then his heart would be dying in loneliness like before. But now because of Slade, the void that had been left by his parents had slowly begun to fill like the grains of sand within an hourglass.

Just how could Dick convey exactly how he felt about this man?

Dick took a step closer to Slade. The man was still and silent, looking rigid; as if he was worried by Dick's answer – perhaps he thought that Dick would reject him.

Dick stepped to be a few inches in front of Slade, looking up at the man. The unbending stance that Slade was taking on softened slightly as he looked down at Dick, who continued to look up at him.

Then, Dick leaned forward, sliding his hands through the man's arms and around his waist. He clasped the fabric of the man's shirt and tightened his hold. He felt Slade stiffen in his arms, but he continued to hug the man; resting his cheek on the man's firm chest. He breathed in deeply, loving the feeling of hugging. His other two hugs had been impulsive; but this one was the real deal for Dick. He was really hugging him; really hearing the man's heartbeat beneath his ear.

It was _so warm_.

"I've long forgiven you, sir," whispered Dick softly. "But thank you for apologizing. I know it was hard."

Dick felt the man stiffen even more.

But then, Dick felt every muscle in the man's body loosen beneath his grip. There was a long moment where Dick just continued to hold onto the man; softly enjoying the moment where the man hadn't pushed him away yet. He was sure Slade's limit was quickly approaching before he'd tell Dick to end the mush.

But, a hand lifted and patted his lower back. It stopped once, rubbing him softly before continuing to its patting motion. Dick's heart glowed happily, automatically snuggling himself a little more against Slade's chest.

After another moment, a dry, yet low voice lifted into the air.

"Are you going to attach yourself to me all night long or are you going on that mission?"

Dick flushed deeply and slowly withdrew from the man. Geez, the man just _had_ to ruin the nice moment, now didn't he? Dick looked down at the carpeted floor. Even though his face was flushing so much that it was creeping to the very tips of his ears, Dick didn't want to let go. He liked being hugged and he still hadn't quite fully gotten that from the man. Slade always felt just a little awkward by Dick's hugs – like he wasn't used to them, but still knew what to do.

Guess Dick wasn't the only one around here that needed training in certain areas.

"Sorry," murmured Dick, keeping his head ducked and wondering if Slade was unhappy with him for hugging him. A weight dropped onto his head, fingers ruffling through his hair. Dick blinked and glanced up at the man.

Dick's eyes widened.

He could tell – he could _completely_ tell. Dick could understand the emotion that was briefly crossing through Slade's face. The man looked touched, even choked up for a moment there. Raw emotion was spreading through his expression. It was brief, however; because then that impassive look that had its usual placement in Slade's face reappeared.

But Dick had seen it.

The hand withdrew and Slade turned away; walking over to the computer desk. There was a moment where Slade just stood there, leaning his hands against the desk; his back slightly hunched over. Dick smiled to himself.

So many little glimpses into future things – so many hints that this and more were in store for Dick. They still had some ways to go, but they were getting there, no doubt about it.

And Dick couldn't wait.

"The girl's location is near here," said Slade, not looking back at him. "Her house, however, is towards the upper section of the city; a few blocks near the bay. You have the coordinates in your locator. You're to retrieve her and return her safely home."

Dick nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That is your only job," continued Slade. "You're not to play the hero and take down every crook there. You are to save that little girl. Her safety is the priority."

"Yes, sir," said Dick with another nod.

"You're also to take this with you," said Slade, turning around. Dick's eyes widened and then narrowed at the object in Slade's hands.

"I don't want to use a gun, Slade. I can do this without one," said Dick, his heart clenching inside his chest.

"Take it anyway."

"No."

"Dick, do not defy me," said Slade, his grey blue eye glinting dangerously. "Don't fight me on this."

"I'm not going to use it," said Dick, pointing at the offensive object. He shrugged elaborately. "Why bother bringing one?"

"You're to bring one because I said so."

"I won't," said Dick, his heart fluttering slightly from his defiance. He hated doing that, especially since Slade wasn't just an adult who could _very much_ make him obey with the threat of a painful punishment, but the man who was now his father and very much deserved his respect and obedience. But that was a gun in Slade's hands and that's where Dick crossed the line. There was just no way he was going to take it, let alone use it.

There was a sharp exhale from Slade's nose.

"Then, you're not going," said Slade, his jaw tightening. Then, his eye narrowed suggestively and Dick felt apprehension tickle his insides. "Plus you'll be punished for defying me like this."

Dick swallowed nervously and he tried to soften his approach.

"I don't want to use a gun, Slade."

"Just obey me on this, boy," said Slade, sounding tired.

"I can't—"

"Do it for me!" snapped Slade suddenly. "_For my peace of mind!_"

Dick's eyes widened. A ripple of shock went through Slade and the man whirled away, his back to Dick; putting a hand on his hip. The man looked up at the ceiling while his entire upper body lifted in a deep breath. It took the man a few moments to calm down. Then, Slade turned around slowly.

Dick looked up into that grey blue eye, startled that the man had just basically expressed that he was worried about him. Slade lifted the gun, gently taking Dick's hand and pushing the metal object into it.

"You never know when you might need a little insurance," said Slade, keeping his voice low and smooth; curling Dick's fingers over the cold metal. "You _will_ take one or you _won't_ go."

Dick bit his lower lip. He understood Slade was worried about him – which in itself was taking Dick a little time to process – but there wasn't anything to convince him to take a real gun with him with real bullets that could kill real people. What if he accidently pulled the trigger? He could never forgive himself for it.

He just couldn't do it.

"But—"

That grey blue eye widened in anger and with a deep, annoyed huff, Slade ripped the gun out of Dick's hand. He grabbed another gun from the table and placed the new one into Dick's hands.

"Tranquilizer darts are in this one," said Slade, his tone bitingly sharp. "Will incapacitate a target for three hours minimum. If you defy me on this, _so help me_—you won't be able to sit down for an entire week once I'm through with you."

A small smile spread across Dick's face. _The man was compromising with him._ He had to hold back a giggle that threatened to break from his lips. The threat just didn't seem like a real one to him at the moment. Well, Slade probably meant it, but Dick knew that the man would never truly hurt him. Yeah, getting walloped hurt, but the man would never go overboard – after all, Slade had just apologized for being harsh with him. Dick's heart glowed inside his chest and he accepted this gun, attaching it to his utility belt. He looked up at the man and gave him a broader smile.

"Thanks for compromising with me," said Dick in a sincere tone. Slade looked a little startled for a moment, but then he gave him a sharp nod.

"You can do this."

A glowing warmth flooded through Dick's chest.

"Was there any doubt?" drawled Dick with a mischievous smile. The edge of Slade's mouth twitched in a smirk.

"You little imp."

There was a mischievous laugh from Dick before he lifted the tipped edged mask to his eyes, sealing them beneath the fabric.

"I can do this is my sleep," said Dick.

"Do me a favor and stay awake," said Slade with a shake of his head. Dick grinned and lifted a hand to be parallel with his head in a wave.

"I'm off, then."

Dick darted to the door, excitement and thrill pounding through his chest.

"Electronic sensors will recognize your handprint now. Also, the keypad has been adjusted for your return," said Slade after him. "Passcode Graybird."

Dick giggled.

"I see what you did there."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dick looked back at the man. Slade averted his gaze away from him. Dick could only smile at the effort. A warmth flooded through his chest. He loved seeing these sides to the man; the sides that seemed to show the vulnerability of the man's heart. Slade was all powerful, but moments like these reminded Dick that he too was a human with feelings.

And that was the best discovery yet.

"Hey, Slade," started Dick. Grey blue met crystal blue. "I'll be back; I promise."

There was a moment where Dick stood there, his eyes boring into Slade's. Then, there was a responding smile.

"I'll be waiting, then."

With another smile, Dick left the room. He walked down the hallway, slowly quickening his steps. Once he reached the door into the main room, his steps quickened into a light run. The gears clinked above his head, almost signifying his leaving happily.

Excitement began to pump through his veins – he could hardly contain himself.

_He was going on a mission all by himself!_

After months of being away from the outside world, he was going to be able to go out on his own. He had missed it too much. There was no doubt about that. This was completely different than going out on a mission with Slade – even though he loved doing that, too; if it weren't so intense. He didn't like Slade killing anyone. It wasn't just a horrible feeling to watch someone die – it was far more horrible when _Slade_ was the one doing it.

Since Slade was someone special, someone sacred, someone ever so close to his heart – his _father_.

Dick quickly placed his hand onto the wall and a moment later the wall shimmered with orange electronic lighting. The wall clicked lightly as the wall shimmered once more before sliding open. A smile graced Dick's lips. He was really doing this. He was going on a mission without Slade, without supervision – all by himself and the man trusted him to return.

He'd save this little girl. He would save her and then come back. He'd come back _home_.

Home to his father.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Five: Authentic Flight – Dick finally goes on his first mission alone after so many months, proving that his skills have not gotten rusty whatsoever.

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, so this was a monster chapter coupled with Wednesday's chapter – this was the final chapter I wrote when I completed the final draft. For a week this chapter mocked me by being unfinished. It just wouldn't come to me. And it just kept getting bigger – and then, when I edited it, it only got worse. XD Thus, the split. Aheh…

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	45. Authentic Flight

**Author's Note:** *giggles* Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews. Truly, thank you so much! ^-^

Haha, glad someone caught the 'Graybird' passcode. Especially since I prefer 'grey' over 'gray' when describing colors. :3

You know, I can't tell you how many times I crack up when ya'll think you know what's gonna happen. *starts cracking up more*

And I seriously doubt that anything _I_ write is greater than Deity. XD But I'll take the compliment just the same. *bows politely* And NO COMMITING SUICIDE! Don't even threaten me with that or I'll stop posting _this_ story and leave you forever to _agonize_ over the cliffhanger I'm about to leave with you. *meaningful eye*

*chuckles and winks*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Five**

**Authentic Flight**

**March 12th, 2009. Thursday, 8:33 pm.**

Dick ran out of the interior warehouse and into night, breathing in the air deeply as the excitement surged through his entire being. He pulled out the locator from his utility belt and found the location where the girl was being kept. He put the locator back into his utility belt and in a swift motion, he pulled out a grappling hook and shot it towards the roof of the nearest building. Smoothly, Dick lifted into the air; flying upwards to the roof. He landed gracefully, laughing to himself. He felt so alive. It had been too long since he felt this.

The feeling of flight.

The feeling of being completely free and weightless in the world. It was different than playing on the high bar. This was true freedom; this was true flight – and the best part was the fact that he was going on a mission that suited his style.

Saving someone.

He wondered how many contracts that Slade got which dealt with saving someone. How many people had he rescued? Were most of his contracts assassin ones or were most of his contracts ones that required his other skills? Dick didn't know, but he rather hoped that Slade had spent his energy helping more people than killing them.

Perhaps it was just idealistic thinking, but Dick had seen that Slade's contracts always contained something that had a glimmer of helping someone. While Slade's thinking of taking out a mafia boss didn't really set well with Dick, he did see that Slade didn't take out innocents. It had always been someone who had a long track record of evil.

It seemed that Dick truly had to search to see those enlightening, interesting, and perhaps even in his own odd way, chivalrous qualities of Slade.

Dick landed in crouch on the edge of a roof, looking down at the traffic below. There were speeding cars, honking horns, and pedestrians walking along the crowded sidewalks. Dick just couldn't hold back the grin that was plastered all over his face. The people below didn't know that right at that moment, _Robin_ was back in business. But of course, he wasn't going to announce his presence to anyone and it wasn't like they'd recognize him in this outfit.

He looked far different than Robin, but he was still Robin at that moment. He wasn't going to give that part of himself up yet. While the alter ego of Robin might be lost, that didn't mean the hero Robin was lost. Somehow, Dick had to convince Slade to let him do more than just criminal work, even though he had yet to see Slade do anything other than kill in a contract. But there was this little stirring in his heart that was telling him Slade wouldn't require that of Dick. He did want to please the man, but they still had conflicting morals they needed to work out. But somehow, there was this reassuring glow inside Dick's heart that said the future held bright things.

And one of those things was to save this little girl.

Dick pulled out his locator again. He quickly read that the coordinates were just a roof away within a large business building. Dick quickly shoved the locator into his utility belt and stood up. With another grappling hook shot across the alleyway, Dick swung over to the other roof.

Carefully, Dick crouch walked to a window in the roof; peering into the building. He could see a number of men in black suits walking by in the hallway below. Dick could tell that these men were powerful, with high upper body strength. They had guns at their hips and weren't afraid of letting them be seen.

Dick pulled away from the window, lying back against the slanted roof. He glanced around until his eyes caught sight of a power box switch. He crawled to it, digging into his utility belt and pulling out a hacking device. He opened the box and set the device next to it, starting it up. Wires automatically writhed from the back of the device and burrowed into the box, connecting to the inside wires. Dick couldn't help but smile. Slade made the coolest stuff ever – no doubt about it. A schematics screen appeared on the device of the nearby security. With a smile, he started working on shutting it down on the small keypad. He was grateful for the hacking training he'd received under Slade. As a Titan, the team's general approach was to bust into the place, 'guns' a`blazing so to speak.

But this was a sensitive mission. The girl could be taken away in the chaos of a fight or be killed to put an end to it. Stealth was the most important thing here until he had the girl in his sights. Sneaking into this place would not have been possible without the training Dick had received the past months.

His device lit a green light as all security systems were shut down. Dick closed the box, leaving the hacking device there. Dick's heart started to pound rapidly with the adrenaline that began to pump through his veins. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, breathing out once to calm himself.

It was time now.

Dick slid over and began working on a nearby air conditioner and heating duct. Pulling out a small, heat-ray gun out of his utility belt, he began to burn through the sides of the duct; the hot metal glowing an orange red as it began to melt. Dick was patient with a steady hand as he wrapped around all the edges. Then, the beam connected where it began and the door of the duct fell forward into Dick's awaiting hands.

Setting it aside carefully, Dick began to crawl into the duct system. Surprisingly, his armor plated knees did not make a sound against the metal of the ducts. He briefly wondered what material they were made out of, before he turned his complete focus on his current mission.

Save that girl.

Dick passed a few rooms, peering into each through the slits of the ducts. Each of the rooms had vaulted ceilings with a few levels of metal rafters above the ground. Some rooms were empty, but others had equipment of numerous types. There were a lot of strange things. Dick couldn't help but frown at some of the stuff. These people were definitely shady.

As a Titan, he probably would've done everything he could to take down the entire building and every crook inside. But at that moment, he knew that his only purpose was to save that little girl. He couldn't take down all these people on his own, after all. He couldn't do it all. He just didn't have that power. He knew it; he accepted it.

What power he did have could be used to help one little girl and her family.

And it was enough.

Then, Dick caught sight of a crowded room. He stilled as studied everyone. There were eight men in the room below. One of them was a large, beefy man. He was sitting in a soft arm chair that seemed to be groaning beneath his weight. Beside him was the little girl, sitting on the floor at his feet. She was curled up in a little ball, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. Her shoulders trembled in what Dick had no doubt were silent sobs.

The men were arguing about something, but Dick didn't pay attention. His focus was on that girl. He pulled out his heat gun and began to burn through the duct once again. In a few moments, he burned an opened; grabbing the metal before it fell to the floor. He quietly set it aside. Then, he slipped through the opening and landed onto a high hanging, metal rafter.

He dropped to a lower one and sat in a crouch as he observed the group below. He sat still, unmoving as he watched every movement below; waiting for the right moment. He felt all his senses dull in the stillness, all his focus below – yet every sense heightened.

'_You can do this.'_

Slade's voice rose in Dick's mind. Dick smiled. He could do this, more especially now that Slade stood behind him. As long as he had that man behind him, Dick could do anything. Having Slade's support was far different than having the Titans' support. There was just something different, something special – having an adult, a _father_, made all the difference in the world.

A small mischievous laugh left his mouth.

Adrenaline poured through his entire body. A culmination of so many feelings flooded through him as newfound power. Love, acceptance, excitement, thrill, and harmony. His entire soul felt alive with it – _pure harmony_.

With that mischievous grin spreading across his face, he fell forward down in the midst of the men. With terrible force, he bolted forward; twisting his body into a speedy kick. He could feel it; the power pulsing through his entire body. He didn't need weapons; his body was good enough, been trained enough. The men around him weren't expecting an attack and were in shock as one them suddenly smashed into the wall from the force of his kick. Dick had landed in a crouch and was slowly rising up. He turned to the group of gapping men. He lifted a languid hand near his face in greeting.

"Yo."

Chaos ensued.

With that mischievous laugh escaping his lips again, Dick was already in the midst of the group. Everything seemed so easy to him; completely dominating the group. Never had his fighting before felt so simple, so easy. He felt thoroughly alive.

The men weren't pushovers, but they certainly weren't as skilled as those assassins that Dick and Slade had encountered during that setup mission. Dick really could feel all the months of training pouring through his entire body and soul, completely making it fully clear just how amazing it was to have Slade as his teacher.

One of the men darted towards him; Dick easily grabbed the man by the shoulder and neck with his hands, and tossed him over his head. Instantly, Dick dropped to the ground to sweep his leg at the nearest foe; toppling him to the floor. Then, Dick flipped backwards onto his hands, swinging his leg upward into the chin of another. He landed into another crouch, before he leapt up and swung his leg into another dominating kick at two advancing men.

Further blows were exchanged with two men; Dick easily dodging the attacks with such ease, it was laughable to him. His entire body was toned with power from Slade's constant, intense training.

"_Enough!_" demanded a gruff voice. There was a gunshot, stilling Dick's heart. With inhuman speed and reflexes, Dick immediately pulled out his tranquilizer gun out of his utility belt and pointed it towards the source.

The large, short man was standing, holding a gun in his hand and pointing it up at the ceiling. With his spare arm, he was holding the little girl around the neck. Her feet were lightly brushing the floor, her hands clasping against the meaty arm that was almost blocking off her breathing. Her eyes were clenched shut as she gasped for breath.

Dick's expression hardened at the sight.

The other men slowly regained themselves. Three were completely out of it because of Dick. He kept an eye on every movement in the room, remaining completely aware of his surroundings. His hands tightened on the gun that he was holding, a tiny worry rising in his chest.

He was holding a gun. There was a possibility that Slade slipped real bullets into this gun. If he pulled the trigger, what would come out? What if Slade had done that in his effort to protect Dick or some other ulterior motive?

But didn't Dick trust Slade completely? If Slade said this was a tranquilizer gun, then that's exactly what it was.

Right?

Dick took a deep breath as he tightened his hold on the gun once more. He let his fears go, allowing his heart to fully believe and trust Slade's words. The man had proven himself this long. He had promised never to lie to Dick; he had promised never to strike Dick cruelly, even apologizing with deep regret for past actions.

And the man had kept his word.

"Drop your weapon or missy here gets it," said the beefy man. Dick didn't move. The gun wasn't pointed at her. If it was, Dick would've been more inclined to obey. However, Dick was faster than this thug that looked like a giant human meatball. He could shoot him with a tranquilizer dart before the man could blink.

Problem was this guy was extremely large. Would one dart do? Dick was confident in his aim, though. After getting over most of his fears, Slade made him practice with targets. Dick wasn't exactly thrilled with the learning, but at this very moment, he was pretty grateful. With the instruction he received, Dick could save this girl's life.

"I'm the one with the gun to your head, mister," said Dick, dropping his voice into the deepest, smoothest voice he could. He vaguely was reminded of the way Slade spoke sometimes and he felt an internal smile spread through him. "So, really. Who has the upper hand here?"

The beefy man growled and began to move, but Dick cocked his gun quickly.

"Ah, ah, ah, don't move, if you please," said Dick in a light tone, but then he slid it into a dark one. "I'm a bit trigger happy."

"What do you want, boy?"

"Funny you should call me a boy when this _boy_ just completely dominated your goons," goaded Dick with a smirk. The thug growled deeply again. "But it should be pretty obvious what I want. Let the girl go and I won't have to hurt you."

"Who sent you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Sorry, bub; that's classified info. Let the girl go."

"A little boy like you isn't a threat to me. Get out, brat."

"Wrong answer," said Dick with a smirk. His finger pulled the trigger. There was a muffled shot and the little girl screamed. An instant later, Dick noticed – with relief – that a red dart was protruding from the thug's neck. That tiny, nagging worry slipped away; Dick's trust hadn't been compromised.

Dick was smiling. He had trusted Slade, who in turn completely made good on that trust. Slade hadn't snuck any bullets into this gun. The joy of knowing that Slade would keep his word even when the man believed differently was beyond reassuring. Dick did completely trust Slade, but it was definitely to nice to see these types of reassurances.

However, the tranquilizer dart wasn't quite affecting the man as it should. The man was slowly going down, but he still had a sharp hold on the little girl. Dick darted forward, kicking the gun out of the thug's hand. Then, he sent a sharp punch into the thug's huge, pudgy face. There was another cry of fear from the little girl. As the man went down, his hold loosened on the little girl. Dick quickly scooped her up into his arms and jumped upwards, using the thug's head as a stepping stool to land into a crouch in the rafters above.

There were shouts from the other men as they tried to collect themselves in their chaos. A few gunshots exploded into the rafters where Dick was. The little girl cried out in fear again and he tightened his hold on her; protecting her head with his arms. He had to suddenly bolt backwards in a scuttle as a bullet narrowly missed his nose. He could smell the strong scent of the gunpowder. He gulped for a moment, feeling unnerved by the closeness of that.

Then, another wry thought crossed his mind. If he didn't get back home to Slade in one piece, the man would probably kill him.

Smiling at that thought, he let another laugh of excitement escape his mouth. With a tighter hold on the girl, he leapt from his spot to higher points in the rafters. Then, he broke into a run. Now he had to get this girl out of here. It didn't matter how many enemies were here; the job was to save her, to protect her. Nothing else mattered. Dick was alone and his first priority was to protect the small bundle in his arms.

Expect the small bundle was struggling, crying in fear.

Dick had no choice but to set the girl down once he got back into the safety of the ducts. The little girl pulled away from him in fear

"No, no," murmured the little girl, tears beginning to stream down her face. Dick assumed she had to be no older than eight years old. Dick gently and slowly lifted a hand to her head. He kindly stroked her light blonde hair, his fingers lacing through the soft strands. The girl slowly began to calm down. Then, her eyes lifted open; stunning, bright green eyes appearing through thick, black eyelashes.

"Hey," said Dick gently, moving his hand to stroke her cheek. "Everything is going to be okay now."

The girl's eyes widened as she looked at him.

"You're Robin!" cried the little girl, sounding shocked and excited. "You are, aren't you?"

Dick's own eyes widened beneath his mask.

He hadn't counted on anyone recognizing him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to explain certain things and he especially wasn't ready to talk to his friends; at least not until they read his letters. Slade was definitely showing that he was capable of compromising with him, like with the gun, but Dick felt the two of them still had a ways to go. He wanted to reach a full and complete understanding before he asked Slade if he could face his friends.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, I am," said Dick in a soft voice; nodding once.

"You've come to save me!"

Dick smiled. "That's right."

The little girl gave him a soft smile of her own through her tears. "I knew you'd come back."

Dick stilled, his eyes wide with surprise. The little girl tilted her head in questioning; those eyes blinking once, eyelashes stroking her cheeks.

"The Teen Titans just aren't the same without you. They always said you were away. Where've you been?"

_Where have I been? Where exactly have I been?_

Dick could only stare at the girl; her brightly curious and innocent eyes looking back at him. Dick's thoughts flashed through the events of the past months. He could remember the feelings, the learning, the happy times, the sad times, the frightening times, the pain, the comfort, the peaceful moments – each and every moment culminating to the one most important moment of all; that moment where Slade extended himself to adopt Dick as his own, clearing his first intent completely – his son.

_His father._

Each moment felt crafted; each moment incremental in opening eyes to reveal what truly laid before them – _both_ Slade and Dick. Each moment building upon the other to soften the heart. Each moment growing the care and love within the soul. Dick knew that he hadn't just received physical and intellectual training the past seven months – he had received emotional training as well.

But Slade hadn't intended that, had he?

Who had intended the emotional training, then?

It hadn't just been Dick who grew; Slade too had grown to care about him, to become softer with him. Slade wasn't the same man he was seven months ago, just as Dick wasn't the same boy seven months ago. Each underwent a powerful change and growth of their own.

So, why?

Why had Dick been stolen away from the world for this culminating training? It was too perfect, too insane, too brilliant to happen by chance. Surely chance couldn't have been so flawless as to create the only environment where Dick and Slade could've reached such a point. Surely it had been a play of fate, a play of destiny in their lives; arranging the pieces so perfectly like a skilled game of chess.

Destiny had placed him somewhere he had needed to be, hadn't it?

_Perhaps… Perhaps I've been where I needed to be; somewhere I could grow and become stronger; somewhere I could learn to become a better person; somewhere I could learn lessons that I just couldn't have learned anywhere else – lessons I couldn't have learned in my obsession and hatred against Slade._

_Somewhere I could change for the better._

_Somewhere I could gain a father in the most unlikeliest of places – something I've needed for far too long._

"I've been where I needed to be," answered Dick, his voice turning softer. The little girl's eyes brightly glistened innocently at him.

"You were where someone needed you?"

Dick blinked, completely taken aback. _'You were where someone needed you.'_

Dick took a quick breath at that thought. Was that even possible? Did Slade… need him? Had it not just been Dick who needed a father, but Slade too that needed a son? Could that man who was completely all powerful, all knowing actually _need_ him?

Dick let a soft smile lift his mouth at that thought. He certainly hoped so. He certainly hoped that Slade needed him like that. Sometimes it truly seemed like that. Perhaps it had been Dick's destiny to fill the void in Slade's heart which had been left by his family; just like it had been Slade's destiny to fill the void in Dick's heart.

Destiny was such a curious thing.

"That's right," answered Dick, smiling at the girl. "Someone needed me and you know what, I needed them, too."

"Wow," breathed the little girl. "You're the coolest hero yet!"

Dick let out a light chuckle.

"What's your name?"

"Grace!" cried the girl happily, bouncing once in the duct. "My name's Grace. My mama calls me Gracie or Gracie-Bug. She always loves calling me nicknames. Does your mama love calling you nicknames, too?"

Those curious green eyes blinked innocently again. Dick found himself falling into them. They reminded him too much of two very special people in his life who held bright green eyes as well: Mary Grayson and Starfire. He found that he couldn't deny them.

"My mama… she would call me her little robin. That's why I go by Robin."

Grace's eyes grew big as saucers. Dick smiled at her. Her expression was reverent, as if she were holding precious information. Dick turned slightly and held out his hands behind his back.

"Come on, Gracie. Time to get you back home to your mama," said Dick, motioning with his hands. "Put your arms around my neck and don't let go for anything, okay?"

"Mhm!"

Dick felt little arms wrap around his neck. Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist and Dick supported them with his arms. Dick noticed that there was a gentle warmth from this contact. Dick wondered for a moment what it would be like to be a father himself once day and would it feel like this, perhaps.

He rather liked the idea.

"Hold on tight," said Dick. He felt those small arms tighten in response.

With a smile, Dick began to crawl through the ducts quietly. He could hear the chaos of his presence below him; men shouting, men barking orders. But it didn't matter. He had the girl and he was going to get her out safely. He'd do it for her, for her family, for himself, and for Slade.

Dick continued to crawl through the ducts, careful to not to make noise, but going quickly. Soon, he reached the outside. With a careful look to make sure the area was clear, he crawled out into the night air. He felt the little girl slipping out of her grasp around her neck as he stood up. Dick wrapped an arm around to support her weight. He quickly went to the power box and opened it. With one hand, he entered codes to put the entire building into lockdown. Then, he sent an alert to the police.

That should do.

Dick entered more code into the device and the wires retract themselves. Once completely disconnected, Dick put the device into his utility belt. With another heft of the little girl, Dick pulled out the locator from his belt. He looked up in direction to go. The distance to her home was at the upper north area of the city – near Titans Tower. Dick dug into his belt again and pulled out a small brace. He quickly wrapped it around his waist, securing the little girl to himself.

"Hold on tight, Gracie," said Dick, pulling out another grapping hook.

He felt the little girl obey him and tighten her arms around his neck; her legs curling more around his waist. Then, he leapt off the roof, freefalling briefly. He heard the girl gasp with fright and bury her face into his neck. The grappling hook shot into the air and connected to the other roof. Dick swung in the air and landed on the other roof in a crouch. Then, Dick raced forward, doing the same for the other side.

It took him a few minutes to pass through the city. Dick used the rooftops only; not wanting to attract the attention of anyone on the ground. Soon, the towering height of Titans Tower came into view as he passed over a skyscraper. He glanced at it for a moment before he tore his gaze away to look down into the high society area of the city. There were a number of mansions with gated areas around them.

Dick leapt down into the courtyard of the mansion that he knew was the girl's home. He slowly walked up the pathway of her home. Once he reached the front door, Dick untied the brace that held her secure. Then, he gently untangled her from his neck. Her eyes were closed shut in fear, but Dick knelt down in front of her and placed a hand beneath her chin.

"You're home now. Everything is all right," said Dick in a kind, soft tone. Green eyes popped opened; dancing from side to side as they took in the surroundings. A bright look of happiness and relief crossed over the girl's young face. Then, Dick placed his hands on her arms for a moment, looking up into her face.

"Hey, Gracie; would you do me a favor?"

"Of course! Anything for Robin!" cried Grace, those emerald green wide with eagerness to please. Dick smiled at that girl; a glow in his heart at her innocence.

"Don't tell anyone that Robin saved you, okay?"

"But why?!"

"I can't tell you why, Grace," said Dick, giving her a serious look. "Please don't tell anyone. For me, okay?"

Grace gave him a fierce nod. She clenched her little fists and brought them in front of her chest with a determined look on her face.

"Okay! Your secret is safe with me!"

Dick smiled.

"Thanks, Gracie," said Dick, patting her on the head. "I'll be watching to make sure you get to your mama safely."

"Thank you, Robin!"

With a wave, Dick sent another grappling hook to the roof of her home. In one upward swoop, he landed gracefully onto the rooftop. He dipped into a crouch on the edge of the roof, watching above carefully. He smiled as he watched the little girl knock on the front door. There was a few moments before the door opened. There was twisting, glowing sensation in his heart as he saw her mother scoop her up in her arms and hold the little girl tightly; her mother sobbing terribly and blessing the name of the savior that saved her child. He smiled gently.

He was glad for her.

Moments like these were the reasons why Dick took on the name Robin. Moments like these were the reasons why Dick trained with everything he had just so other children would never be prematurely separated from their parents. He never wanted them to experience the same pain he had felt and still felt from their absence.

But he also had a new reason.

He didn't want parents to be separated from their children – like Slade had been when he had lost Grant. Dick wanted to protect everyone he could. There was just a brief moment where he could say that he had longed for the same thing that little Gracie just had – the enveloping embrace of her mother.

But Dick was thankful – thankful that he now had someone to go home to that would be there for him. Yeah, Slade wasn't exactly welcoming him home with a great big bear hug, but maybe… just _maybe_ he would one day and just having that thought heartened Dick.

Dick turned away. Over the horizon, he could see the giant tower of the Teen Titans, a large building in the shape of a T standing out over the bay of Jump City. Dick couldn't really get a good look at it from his current location.

He bit his lower lip for a moment. He wanted to see it, just for a moment. After seeing it, he'll go back. Slade was waiting for him after all.

Dick broke into a dart, leaping off the roof to shoot his grappling hook to the far roof. He swung upwards to land on a business building. Then, he ran towards the nearest rooftop. He landed, rolling once forward before pulling up to his feet in a fluid movement. Three more rooftops passed and he was at the edge of the coastline.

Dick smiled, seeing the Tower glimmer slightly in the moonlight. A chilled breeze blew by and he shivered in spite of himself. Slowly, he lowered himself down to sit on the ledge of the roof; one knee pulled to his chest as he leaned his arms on it, while his other leg dangled in the air.

He let his eyes soaked in the Tower.

The moonlight glimmered across the surface of the ocean, white glittered waves softly washing against the shoreline. The gentle sounds of the waves could be heard, this area of the city much quieter than the more bustling end. The air of the ocean brushed across Dick's senses. All the while, he stared at the quiet, darkened tower, only the moonlight gleaming against its windows.

It was like Dick was mentally telling his friends that everything would be all right soon. He didn't know when or how, he just knew soon everything would be fine. There was this rising warmth in his heart that was reassuring him that everything would be. There was no true logical reasoning to it; he just knew. He took a deep breath, taking in the salty night air of the ocean. Another chilly breeze passed over him, ruffling through his hair.

Time to go back home.

Dick stood up, taking one last glance at the Tower. He'd be back soon – that much he knew.

Then, another chilling breeze flowed over him, but this time there was something dark about it. Terrible shivers went down Dick's spine. Something felt overpowering, almost like death itself. Yet there was a feeling of never ending life. This aura was frightening, chilling, and somehow very familiar in some ways.

A dark, feminine voice lifted smoothly into the air in a mocking tone.

"Well, what do we have here? It's the Titans' missing birdie, isn't it?"

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Six: The Behemoth Encounter – Sometimes the future holds sorrowful things, but it those who stand with hope that will be able to look forward to a time of light. Destiny is an interesting thing; thus, it all comes crashing down.

**Author's Notes:** Actually, this whole week is about cliffhangers. XD Oh, this is fun. LOL

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Thursday! (Tomorrow, yes) See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	46. The Behemoth Encounter

**Author's Note:** _My word_, so many amazing, honoring reviews, my mind is blown! *huggle fest with all her readers*

So, to start off. Nope, little Dickie isn't wearing a comlink. I should've mentioned that in a conversation with Slade and Dick. *adds to editing roster* XD

*giggles* Yes, yes; there will be a sequel. :3 But you'll have to wait a bit while I take a breather period. I've run a marathon and it's time to vacation in Hawaii for the 3 months. /not, rather go to Japan

You'll still have _Warped Identity_ to occupy yourselves though. I'll be finishing that up after this. :3

To the group of 12: you all are a delight. I am deeply honored and touched by your list of compliments. And I must full heartily agree with 6: I do have a child's view in an adult's body. And somehow, I highly doubt that'll change anytime soon. XD

To Random Reader who reads to her little sisters: I think that is so precious. *waves and gives out huggles to all three of you*

As for those readers that don't really like the father/son relationship that has developed/been developing: I have read quite a few apprentice fics and I always craved a story where Slade and Robin would reach some sort of amity – a non slash one. But they never do; not truly. Else it's terribly, unfairly rare. If you're looking for the story where Slade's the antagonist, you should know…

Not once did I write him as the antagonist. Not one word was crafted with that thought in mind. Unheard of, I know, but I wrote him as the flawed character that he is. To be honest, I don't think this story ever had an antagonist.

If you've made it this far, then I would implore you to stick around a little more. There are still a few more curves that I'll be throwing ya. Remember that blue moon I mentioned? That's fast approaching – next week sometime. This story was always meant to be unconventional; this story was always meant to change everything you ever thought about with Robin and Slade; and this story was always meant to have a happy ending for _all_ characters involved.

Oh… And you might cry during this chapter… Just saying…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Six**

**The Behemoth Encounter**

**March 12th, 2009. Thursday, 11:19 pm.**

Destiny.

Fate.

Some might call it fate. Others might call it destiny. Some might believe in karma, while others might believe in deity. Perhaps others believe there is nothing of that sort at all. Whatever true destiny is or whatever true fate is, those who truly understand the process of life know that nothing is happenstance, nor coincidence, nor dumb luck, nor fluke, nor accident. Whatever the supernatural forces that are in existence in life, there is always once thing that can be counted on.

The fates of humans are always watched over; both young and old, both bond and free, both black, white, and in between, both male and female; no respecter of persons – watched over like the twinkling of the night stars; forever trying those creatures that must exist upon this world, yet not without a little guidance and aid.

A gentle breeze fluttered by, softly trilling through the air in a chilled contrasting warmth.

Dick's breath caught in his chest at the unfamiliar voice. He whirled around to see a girl walking out of the shadows. His eyes widened as he recognized her. Her long white hair flowed in the breeze and her violet red eyes looked scornfully at him.

It was Slade's daughter, Rose.

"I knew it," said Rose in an undertone. "I knew I felt your presence out and about among the living. Had to see for myself what's so great about you."

"Rose…" murmured Dick, shocked at seeing the girl. She really did look like—

The girl's eyes had widened in fury as he spoke her name. In a split moment, she was upon him, her hand clasped around Dick's throat as she smashed him into the walled section of the roof. Dick choked, saliva bursting in a cough from his mouth at the terrible blow. He clutched at her wrist, trying to pull her away, but he found her strength too powerful. He had to look up at her; her height being a few inches taller than his own. She was reminding Dick deadly of Slade's power.

"Let's get one thing clear," hissed Rose. "I'm Sadie. You're to call me _Sadie_."

"Why?" asked Dick hoarsely from the pressure on his neck. He was having a difficult time breathing; his breath catching in his throat.

"Rose died a long time ago."

There was a chilling sound to her voice, something Dick had only heard the like once from Slade – and that had been when he wanted to kill Two-Face for hurting him. There was something so dark and foreign to the sound of her voice, almost as if it was lost in the void.

It was actually extremely terrifying.

"Let me go."

"Why should I?" snapped Rose. Then, her expression turned mocking. "Well, aren't you just the cute little brother. I can't believe dear _Daddy_ adopted you. I honestly don't understand why he'd waste his time on such a weakling like you."

Dick's breath caught in his chest, dying in his throat. The blood roared in his ears and tears began to prickle at his eyes.

'_A weakling like you.'_

Was that right? After all that Dick had been through, was he truly weak? Was it weakness enduring a capture and then turning that capture around completely to become something amazing? Was it weakness to find it in his heart to fill it with love for another person? Was it weakness to forgive? Was it weakness to look forward towards a new future where he could fill it with lots of time being the best son he could be?

Where was the weakness in all that?

Dick wasn't weak. It wasn't weakness that made him forgive or love. It was quite the opposite. It took someone with a strong heart to do something like that. It took a strong heart to see the good in someone like Slade; and see the good Dick did. There was so much to see if only your eyes were open to it. Sure the man had some glaring faults, but Dick remembered from his mother to always look for the good in others. This was one time he sure was glad he had been able to follow such advice.

"I'm not a weakling," rasped Dick, pulling at the hand that was clamped over his windpipes. The hand tightened around his neck and stars began to pop within Dick's sight. He felt something brush against his ear and then heated breath flowed over it.

"Yes, you are. You're human. _Of course_, you're weak," hissed Rose in his ear, her breath tickling his ear; yet it didn't feel nice at all. Dick could feel the darkness of her heart flowing through her, wafting over him in its poison. What the heck happened to this girl?

"Humans are always weak."

_Is that true? Are we all really that weak?_

_No._

_No, she's wrong._

Dick knew all too well that humans weren't weak. They were the strongest creatures alive. Strength didn't always come from power of flesh – true strength came from the heart. Love, forgiveness, kindness – the list went on. Dick had seen all too many times. He had always gained great strength whenever his mother offered such things and the times that Slade offered them to him were also the times that he gained strength.

Humans weren't weak – they had the ability to strengthen others and through that, themselves.

Dick didn't need the power of starbolts to be strong.

"I can't breath," gasped Dick, struggling more against her grip. Blackness was starting to fade over his eyes. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Rose scoffed and withdrew her hand. Dick fell to his knees as he gasped for breath to return the oxygen to his brain.

"You see? You're weak. Humans are pathetic."

"You—you act like you aren't one," said Dick, still breathing heavily; rubbing a hand around his neck.

"Humans die. What I am if I can't die?" asked Rose, her violet red eyes glinting with a malicious light. Dick's eyes widened beneath his mask. Rose couldn't die…?

"You're immortal," said Dick, his breath catching once in his shock.

_Just like Slade._

"Yeah, pretty much," answered Rose, her tone completely resentful.

"You should visit Slade," said Dick, his breathing beginning to regulate. "You should go see him. I know he'll want to—"

"_No way_," snapped Rose, the light in her darkened eyes becoming even more frightening. "I don't want anything to do with him. I don't want anything to do with humans."

"I don't understand. What does humans have to do with anything?" said Dick, slowly standing up. He leaned against the wall briefly as his head gave him a lightheaded feeling for a moment. "We're all human. What does it matter?"

There was small laugh that slowly twisted into deep chilling laughter. She lifted her head and laughed terribly at the sky. Dick swallowed, feeling completely unnerved by the sounds she was making. It made her sound unhinged for sure. There was a disturbing feeling that rose inside Dick's chest.

Rose sounded almost deranged.

But that couldn't be right… could it? What had happened to her to make her sound like that? Her entire aura sent shivers down Dick's spine.

Then, the laughter stopped abruptly as Rose dropped her head to glare at Dick. She lifted her arms elaborately.

"Did you know there's a sound that's made when souls are separated from their bodies?" asked Rose, the light in her eyes turning truly frightening. Dick found he could only shake his head in answer. Rose continued, "Oh, _yeah_. There's a sound. I can hear it. Looks like I got myself some special powers, huh?"

Dick sucked in his breath.

_That experiment on Slade… She must've gotten powers from Slade. Did Joey get powers, too? I doubt Grant did, since he was conceived before Slade volunteered for the experiment._

_Is Joey immortal, too?_

"You know my story, don't you?" asked Rose, taking a step closer to Dick. There was something chilling about her and Dick found himself trapped beneath those terrible eyes. "You know how my class was blown up, right? Just because I was _Deathstroke's_ little girl."

Rose leaned in closer to Dick, who tried to back away; only to find himself pushed against the wall. She leaned down to his ear and he once again felt her warm breath against his ear. Chills flooded down his back, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"_Do you know what death sounds like?_" came the harsh whisper into his ear. "I'll tell you. It sounds like the very jaws of Hades licking at your insides; like the gates of purgatory, home of devils, tearing at your heart and soul. It is the very sound of the souls of humans being ripped from their bodies in a premature death. Such sounds can never be erased from one's mind."

There was an inhale of breath, before it exhaled over Dick's ear; sending further dark chills down his spine.

"That's the sound I heard my classmates create when that classroom exploded."

Dick shuddered by the terrible voice that was sinking in his entire soul. All he could think about was how horrible that must sound – the sound of death. He had heard it once with his parents and he _never_ wanted to hear something like it again. He even had felt it when Slade had been shot. The terrible feelings that nearly drowned him as he heard those sounds blast through the air.

The sound of death came in so many different forms.

A darkness seemed to flow over him; suffocating his every segment of his entire soul. It felt as if she had the ability to suck the happiness right from his entire being. Dick's heart began to palpitate as the darkness threatened to consume him. All the feelings he had ever felt in fear of being left behind from the death of someone he loved began to clutch at his heart. He almost felt hands grab him, as if he were to be dragged down into the darkness.

_No!_

A breeze fluttered through Dick's hair.

'_Remember that everyone has a spark of good within their hearts. You need only to light it and it will burn away the brittle brush of the darkness, spreading the light all throughout one's heart.'_

The words he heard from his mother at that climatic moment a few weeks ago rose inside Dick's mind. The darkness faded from Dick's soul, the light spreading throughout his entire being. The darkness fled from the light and peace that flowed over him; warming every tip of his entire soul – the warmth completely enveloping in its embrace.

Peace, light, kindness, warmth flowed into his heart and a smile formed within. Dick focused his gaze at the girl who was leaning near his face.

What he saw was a girl in agony, yet hid beneath the darkness of her heart. Dick understood then; the knowledge lighting through his mind. The girl's heart had become twisted from that terrible event. How could it not? To watch, hear her classmates dying all around her, yet she lived. What had been her feelings during that moment? '_Why was she different?'_ Perhaps after so many years she was still afraid that something like that would happen.

Rose was afraid to love someone.

"And that's a sound I never want to hear again," hissed Rose in his ear. She leaned back a little, glaring deeply at Dick.

"Slade won't die," whispered Dick. "He'll always live since he's immortal, too. So, you don't have to worry that he'll leave you."

There was a moment where Rose considered him heavily. Then, there was that terrible laughter once again. She leaned against the wall, her presence almost dominating as she loomed over him in her dark laughter. Dick could almost feel her body pressed lightly against him as she rested her forehead against the wall. He quickly focused on the words of his mother so he wouldn't be drowned within that darkness.

Then, she pulled back slightly; her presence still looming over him.

"Of course he is," said Rose, shaking her head. "No wonder I turned out this way. _It's all his fault!_"

There was a long moment of stillness, of quiet between them. Then, she dipped her head slightly, considering Dick heavily.

"Yeah, maybe," whispered Rose in mocking. "Yeah, maybe I'll see the man in a hundred years or so. Yeah, since you'll be _dead_ by then."

The color drained from Dick's face as his heart stilled immediately. Rose laughed again.

"What's this? You didn't think about that, did you?" mocked Rose. "What, does he _love_ you? Heh, when you die, it'll be like you're ripping out that man's heart with your bare hands; crushing it, smashing it into nothingness. And you know, he'll mourn your death far greater than Grant's death. Why? Because he _grew_ to love you. That's powerful stuff there. He'll be _devastated_."

Dick's eyes widened; a burning sensation rose inside them. A choking, strangled gasp mixed with a sob broke from his lips.

"He'll never recover, you know," continued Rose darkly. "His heart will become like steel. You'll only be able to save him for so long. But then, you'll _die_ like _everyone_ else in this world, leaving him behind. How do you think that'll make him feel? Watching his son grow up before his eyes and then grow old to only die, becoming the dust of earth."

Tears overflowed. They slipped from his eyes into the fabric on his face. They began to soak deep into his mask.

"He'll be alone again," whispered Rose in a terrible voice. "This time he'll have loved and lost, but he'll never be able to see you _ever_ again – if you wanna believe in an afterlife. He's doomed to watch any and all loved ones die. He's _cursed_."

Dick's heart palpitated in his chest at that terrible, horrible, _awful_ thought. He hadn't ever considered such a possibility before. He had been too worried at being left behind himself that he never thought of who would be torn at his own death. Who would he leave behind? Would Slade truly be devastated by his death? Would Slade be lonely yet again? Would he mark the day of Dick's death like he did for Grant's death? Would he sink into depression and try to drown himself in alcohol on the anniversary?

Would Slade cry?

Another far more powerful wave of tears flowed from his eyes. They streamed down into his mask only to overflow and fall down his cheeks. His chest shuddered as he took a deep breath, gasping through a small choking sob that broke through his defenses. There was a mocking laugh from Rose.

"Look at this; I made my baby brother cry," sneered Rose, a dark smile lifting her mouth. "You truly are weak. Aren't you supposed to be the all powerful hero, _Robin?_ Isn't crying weakness? This is why humans are pathetic. You're _weak_. You're _pathetic_. You're _useless_."

'_You are strong.'_

'_You are extraordinary.'_

'_You are unique.'_

'_You are special.'_

'_Your life is precious.'_

All throughout his life, whenever Dick felt his self worth falling, the voice of his mother would fill his mind; bringing him renewed comfort. But now Dick found that the voice in his head sounded exactly like Slade; the words of praise that the man had told him replaying in his mind over and over again. Dick felt anchored by that smooth, deep voice now. Seven months ago he never imagined that the voice that had brought him so much irritation would now bring him his greatest comfort.

Dick knew who he was; he knew the entirety of his soul.

Dick lifted a hand to his mask and pulled it off in a swift movement; storing the mask in his utility belt afterwards. Rose's eyes widened as Dick gazed at her with unfiltered crystal blue eyes. He smiled at her through his tears. He didn't bother to wipe them away. Somehow he felt strengthened, as if there was something soft holding him up.

"I'm not just Robin, the Boy Wonder, or Dick Grayson, but I'm a combination of both," said Dick with another smile, tears slipping down his cheeks. "It's okay to cry. And you know, I can't be strong all the time. I've tried before; it's impossible. But guess what? I don't have to be strong all the time. I have people, a _father_, that I can rely on to help me through the difficult times. I have adults who care about me – Will, too. I don't have to do things all by myself now. It's okay to need others. It's okay to be weak sometimes. Slade is my father now and I _need_ him, and that's _okay_."

_That's right. Slade will be there for me. So, that means I have to be there for him, too. Rose is right; one day I'll die and have to leave him behind. I don't want to cause him pain. But the memories we'll create will be able to sustain him. Just like mine of my parents have been special to me._

_But that doesn't mean I'll let Slade ever be alone again._

"As for my eventual death," continued Dick, his tone turning soft. "I'll just have to make sure that Slade is never alone again. I'll have to get married and have a family. You know what—" A broad smile spread through Dick's face. "—I'll have so many children, Slade won't know what to do with himself. I might have seven kids or seventeen; all I know is Slade's home will always have a child in it. I'll be sure to tell my children to always have large families of their own. It'll only take a single ripple, _me_, to start something amazing. I'll tell them that Slade must never be left alone. Even in a thousand years into the future, I'll hope and pray that some descendant of mine will always be by Slade's side."

Rose broke out into more laughter.

"That has got to be the _stupidest_ thing I've ever heard!" cried Rose through her mocking laughter. "That won't do anything! That'll just create more humans to tear out his heart! And anyways, there's no guarantee that can happen."

"Slade is a man of his word," said Dick reverently, looking down at the ground as he felt his heart glow. "That's one of his greatest character traits. I want to be like that. I want to aspire to become a man of my word – just like him. So, starting now, I swear that I'll do whatever is humanly possible to make sure Slade will never be alone again. This I promise."

Dick felt Rose take a step back away from him. There was a moment of silence, but Dick didn't look back up at her; feeling slightly emotionally drained by the implications of both her words and his own.

"Well, then," began Rose's dark voice; his tone turning hardened. "Maybe you shouldn't be around to fulfill that promise."

Dick managed to look up in time to see a terrible punch coming towards his upper chest. Just in time, Dick crossed his arms in a block. Pain exploded through his wrists as the powerful blow struck them. His back smashed into the wall, stars bursting in his sight.

Suddenly, a leg came swinging at his left. Dick threw up his arm to block the blow. It connected in another terrible strike of pain to his arm. He skidded against the rooftop from the force. There was a brief moment where Dick was fully and completely reminded of Slade at his full power; except this opponent wanted to hurt him, perhaps even kill him.

This girl wasn't going to hold back.

Dick quickly ducked as another kick came his way. He swept his leg beneath himself, knocking Rose to the ground. But she was on her feet a moment later, rushing forward to exchange blows with him. Dick had to go on the defense, blocking each blow expertly. He was impressed with the knowledge that, while Rose was an excellent fighter, she most certainly wasn't as skilled as Slade. Dick had spent seven months under the intense, at times fierce, training of Slade.

And that's where Dick's advantaged lied.

In the fight, Dick breathed deeply, letting his nerves calm and settle. He let his body go, allowing instinct to kick in – all the months of training flowing through every movement of his muscles. He could remember every blow exchanged, every sweat drop, every instruction, every praise – everything Slade had ever taught him, had ever shown him.

And at that moment, fighting against someone with Slade's power seemed nothing more than just another challenge in training.

Somehow, Dick's speed increased. Able to anticipate Rose's attacks, Dick got through her defense. He landed a punch in her stomach; causing her to double over briefly. But then, she lifted her head and Dick had to jump back warily. Rose's violet red eyes were slowly filling with white. A second later, she swung her arm through the air in a slice.

Dick instinctively dodged, even though he was out of her reach. However, he felt a blast of power blow in a fierce wind beside his cheek. He felt something slice his skin. He rolled to the side and quickly put a hand to the stinging area. He felt a long stripe, a slick sensation of liquid, and Dick brought his hand to see that there was blood.

Well, wasn't this just _wonderful_.

In a panic, Dick rolled out of the way as another slice was sent his direction. The power missed him this time, slicing deep into the wall of the roof; a thin carve within the metal like a knife cutting butter.

Dick bolted forward, determined to bring the fight to a playing field where he could play on. Giving Rose no time to react, he brought the fight back to blows where she couldn't use her strange power. This time, Rose had to go on the defense, backing up towards the wall through the fight to avoid Dick's attacks.

Then, Dick saw an opening. He grabbed her by the wrist with one hand and by the neck with the other. He slammed her into the wall, pinning her there; her cheek pressed against the wall.

"Why are you doing this, Rose?" demanded Dick, his chest heaving from his exertion; a trickle of sweat slipping down his temple. "Why are you so angry? What's happen to you?"

"Shut up!" growled Rose, pushing off against the wall with terrible force. She swung her arm around and backhanded Dick across the face. Dick's hold on her released as he was jerked to the side from the force of her blow. A second later, he was grabbed and slammed into the same position Rose had been in. Pressure was applied as Rose leaned to his ear.

"What do you know about anything?" snarled Rose, her breath flowing over Dick's skin. "You have no idea what it's like. _You don't know what it's like!_"

"Yes, I do."

Dick was pulled back and slammed against the wall.

"_Liar!_"

"I know!" cried Dick, blinking rapidly from the blinding stars in his eyes. "I watched my parents fall to their deaths when I was seven years old – _on my birthday_. You aren't the only one who's heard the sound of death!"

The pressure on Dick released slightly. In that moment, Dick dropped to a crouch and swept his leg behind himself. He felt Rose jump back as he quickly turned to face her. There was a brief moment while Dick rose slowly to look at the girl who was staring back with slight shock in her eyes.

"No matter how many times I wished I could've saved them, I couldn't; I didn't have the power," whispered Dick. "But that's why I'm who I am today – so, no one else has to feel that way. I want to protect and save others."

Dick looked deep into Rose's violet red eyes, trying to extract the darkness and pain that swam within those orbs. As he stared into those terrible eyes, he widened his own for a moment; remembering. Those eyes looked _exactly_ like Slade's single eye had when he returned from the dead. It had been brief, but once he saw Dick, his eye had changed.

What if…

What if Rose never truly came back after her death; teetering on the edge of life and death where her heart was safe from attaching to those humans that would one day leave her behind? If that was the case, what could bring her back? What could bring her back from the dead?

Soft memories lifted in a trilling light within Dick's mind. All of them included a moment where his dear mother had wrapped her arms around him and told him that everything was going to be all right; her comforting warmth more than enough to prove her words right.

Well, there was only one way Dick knew to try to bring this girl back from the dead and try was just what he was going to do.

"Not only that, I'm going to save you, too," said Dick; his voice strong in his determination.

"Huh?—"

Dick darted forward. Before Rose could react to him, Dick collided into her; his arms wrapping around her waist. The force made the two of them fall backwards. But Dick didn't let go. He felt Rose sit up, forcing Dick to sit up as well. Dick was kneeling on the ground, his face in Rose's upper shoulder and his arms still tightly wrapped around her waist.

"_Get off me!_" cried Rose furiously, pushing at Dick's shoulders; but he clamped his arms tighter around her waist. He felt her struggle against him, but he held on for dear life. No matter how hard she dug into his arms or shoulders, he wouldn't let go. He gritted his teeth as her powerful hands created bruises on his arms. But soon, he felt her quickened breathing intensify as she stopped struggling. He could feel her heart flutter rapidly against his chest.

"It's okay to care about others, Rose," whispered Dick. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. I understand what's it like to lose important people."

"Y—you don't!" cried Rose, now frantically pushing against Dick once again. "It's Sadie now! I'm not Rose. She died years ago!"

"I don't think so. You're still holding onto her."

"_I'm not!_"

"Then, why did you go with the name Sadie? Did you purposely choose it?" asked Dick in a soft whisper. "I know Sadie is a nickname for Sarah. You never did let go, did you?"

"_No!_" screamed Rose, struggling fiercely. "You don't know anything!"

"You're still Rose to your father and mother," continued Dick, holding onto her tightly as she fought against him. "You're still Rose to yourself. You should go back to your mom. She misses you."

"Stop this! Stop it—_let go of me!_"

"I know it hurts, but it doesn't matter if one day they'll leave you behind," whispered Dick, tears freely falling from his eyes again to slip down his cheeks. "What time you have is precious; don't waste it. There were times that I wished I hadn't ever met my mother and father since they had only been taken away from me. But I know and understand that such a wish is wasteful and foolish. Think of all the times my mother hugged me or told me she loved me. I would've missed out on that. I need that; I need those memories. They're treasures. You need to create treasures with the ones you love before it's too late."

"I don't love anyone!"

"I think you do," countered Dick. "Stop lying to yourself. Stop burying your heart. You'll die that way."

"I can't die! _Don't you get it?_" snapped Rose, her voice becoming more frantic.

"I meant your heart will die," whispered Dick. "You'll be nothing but a shell. And that's worse than death itself."

There was a choking sob.

"It already died long ago," cried Rose.

She went limp in his arms and the struggling stopped. But Dick didn't release his hold on her. He just held her; knowing that being held was one of the most important things in life. Then, he felt her body begin to tremble. There were soft little cries. Dick tightened his arms around her waist. There was a long moment where the air was only filled with her soft cries. Then, small arms lifted and wrapped themselves around Dick's waist. They laid against him for a moment before they tightened, as if she were grabbing onto a lifeline.

Then, more sobs filled the air as Dick felt Rose bury her face into his neck. He smiled lightly now; feeling relieved, yet exhausted. Even with the tears, he knew she'd be all right now. She'd get better. He buried his own face into her upper shoulder, letting his own tears fall. It was a strange thought to think that this girl was now his adopted sister. Having a sibling was something he had always wanted, but Mary never was able to have another child.

It was like he had a family now.

Dick slowly rubbed Rose's back. Her hands clutched his taunt uniform fabric, tightening her entire hold on him as she continued to cry.

"I know your parents love you," whispered Dick. "You should try to fill your life with as many precious memories with them as you can. You should come visit Slade. I think he'll be really happy if you did. And I want to see my new sister more often, too."

Still small sobs came from Rose as she continued to cry. So, he just held her; letting the comfort flow to her and in turn, letting himself be comforted by the hug as well – two lost children holding onto each other.

Minutes passed in this soft moment.

Then, Dick blinked, hearing the sound of soft shoes pad against the ground nearby. He looked towards the sound to see a young man of around twenty years old walk up to them. The young man smiled gently as he knelt down beside the two of them. Dick noticed that the young man had blond hair and deep bright green eyes. A white lifted scar was on his upper neck in a horizontal thin line. There was something familiar about his face.

Then, Dick's eyes widened.

The young man reached up towards Dick's face and gently placed his hand on his cheek. Dick was too surprised to pull away – not that he could with Rose in his arms. Then, the hand stroked his cheek with fingers, right along the cut that lined his face. A moment later, the stinging faded. The hand withdrew after another moment.

Then, a smooth, soothing voice filled Dick's mind. It was not much unlike Slade's voice, but it held a gentleness and a lyrical sound to it as well. There was something so overwhelmingly soft to it.

"_Thank you for helping my sister,"_ said the voice that came into Dick's mind. Dick tried to think his answers, but the voice came again. _"It's okay, you talk out loud. I'm mute, not deaf."_

"You're Joey, aren't you?" whispered Dick, not wanting to frighten Rose. She didn't respond at all, but continued to hold onto him; crying softly.

Joey nodded.

"_I've been watching over Rose; following her at times. She's never been the same since the incident. Our whole family hasn't been the same."_

Joey's green eyes glanced over at Rose.

"_Both Mom and I just haven't known what to do about her. Every day it seemed as if she disappeared more and more, burying her heart deeper and deeper until we couldn't recognize her. Nothing we did would break her down. She distanced herself even more, until two years ago she just moved out. Mom's been sick with worry so I decided to keep an eye on her all this time. Whether or not she's known it, well, she hasn't let on."_

"Slade still cares about you two," said Dick, tightening his hold on Rose. He felt her respond slightly, her hands flexing on his back. "He's never stopped caring and he's always blamed himself for what happened. I can see it: he really loves you both very much."

Joey smiled knowingly.

"_I know. I know Dad still loves us,"_ said Joey; that soft smile still spreading through his young, yet masculine features. _"He's always been like that; blaming himself for things. I don't blame him for what happened. If you think about it logically, it can happen to anyone. I always wanted to see him, but Mom… Well, she's bitter and unhappy about everything. She still loves him, though. No denying that."_

"You can visit!" cried Dick, a desperate feeling rising inside his chest. "You can visit him. I think he'll love that. I'd like it, too."

"_We just will have to do that sometime, then,"_ said Joey, his smile spreading wider. Then, that smile lifted into a playful one that reminded Dick a little of Slade's mischievous smile. Joey lifted his hand again and ruffled Dick's hair.

"_It's kind of nice having such a cute, little kid brother now."_ Dick felt his face flush deeply. Joey's mouth opened in a silent laugh, yet Dick heard the melodic sounds flow into his mind. _"Yup, you really are adorable. Welcome to our… well, basically messed up family."_ There was another melodic chuckle. _"But I can tell that through you our family has gone through quite a bit of healing. I thank you for that."_

Dick bit his lower lip and could only nod; feeling emotion rise in his chest. Joey's hand withdrew and he held out both his hands towards Rose. He moved closer and began to pull Rose away. Dick noticed that the ashen, snow colored skin that had once covered Rose, now filled with warmth; a flesh olive skin color in its place. As Rose was slowly extracted from Dick, there was a moment where she looked deep into Dick's eyes. A light flickered there and Dick instantly noticed that her eye color had changed from her darkened violet red to a light, steel grey blue – eyes that were so much like Slade's single eye.

Dick smiled and placed a hand onto her shoulder.

"You really do like your father," said Dick. Those steel grey blue eyes blinked for a moment, before a genuine smile graced her lips. The darkness that had been held in her eyes had completely lifted. Dick could still see pain hidden in those eyes, but it was no longer clouded by a dark void. There was hope now.

Joey easily maneuvered his arms beneath Rose and lifted her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. Dick quickly stood, noticing that Joey's height towered over him. Not quite like Slade's and not quite like Bruce's, but it was much taller than Rose's and Dick felt extremely small next to him.

When was that growth spurt going to kick in?

But Dick smiled, letting himself feel like a little brother. That's what he was feeling at that moment, looking up at this young man he really had only just met, but knowing that they were brothers – at least on paper. Perhaps there would come a time where they really could experience a closer relationship.

"You'll visit?" asked Dick, feeling a little nervous as he watched Joey turn away. The young man looked back at him and gave him a firm nod, a gentle smile spreading through his face. Dick could hear the soft words from the young man.

"_Of course. We have a little brother now."_

Dick watched them leave; Joey stepping over the edge of the roof confidently to slowly levitate towards the ground. Dick watched his feet touch payment before the young man began to walk down the sidewalk with Rose in his arms.

Something pulled at Dick's heart. He had a lot to tell Slade when he got back. What would the man say when his other children were going to come for a visit? There was a small twinge in Dick's heart, but he pushed away. He knew Slade cared about him even if his other children were to enter his life again. Surely a parent can love more than one child. There wasn't any reason for Dick to doubt his worth. He was literally the man's son now. Slade had actually put forth the effort to adopt him.

So, Dick let his heart be at peace with it.

Instead, newfound excitement began to fill his soul. He had _siblings!_ Hopefully, they would come to visit soon. Their home would be filled with more voices and Wintergreen would like that.

Dick would like that, too.

Things were changing so quickly that Dick wondered what more the future held for him. There was this small voice in the back of Dick's mind that still questioned certain things – like the fact of what Dick would do in his future.

Would he be the man's apprentice? Would he become his partner?

As much as Dick cared about Slade, becoming a mercenary wasn't something he wanted to do. He didn't mind learning from Slade, but he truly hoped that he could convince Slade to allow him to continue being a hero. When that would be, Dick wasn't sure.

Hopefully, the future held that promise.

Suddenly, an alarm blared nearby. Dick looked down over the edge of the roof to see two robbers escaping from a convenience store down below. Dick's hands flexed nervously; clenching closed to open again. The same old adrenaline flooded through his veins as he watched the criminals running off; a sign that even after months off the job, he still felt the same excitement rise within him at the thought of catching those criminals.

He just couldn't let them get away like that. He was here, watching them run off. Dick was still a hero at heart; he knew that. He just couldn't let this one get away from him.

Just one for old times' sake.

Quickly, Dick pulled out his mask and smoothed it over his eyes. Then, he leapt off the roof; using a grappling hook to ease his decent. He landed in crouch in front of the escaping robbers, who stopped abruptly by his appearance. Without even an introduction, Dick rushed at them. He swung his leg into the nearest one; causing him to burst to the side from the impact. With a single punch to the face, he sent the other robber to the ground. Both men groaned deeply, but were, for the most part, stopped.

It wasn't even a contest. Robbers like these were seriously pathetic. Well, he'll let the police get them from here.

He had to go. He promised Slade that he'd return. So, return he must. No matter how much his heart really wanted to see his friends, he knew he needed a little more time – _just a little more time_. He sent them letters, so they would know he was all right soon.

Or was the real truth the fact that Dick was simply afraid to face them after all this time?

Interesting how in life, fate aligns our destinies in just the perfect way where we must face those fears.

"Robin…?"

Dick froze.

That blithe, gentle voice wafted over him, paralyzing his entire body. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, his heart falling and palpitating terribly. Seven months; _seven months_ – it had been _so_ many months since he had heard that voice, that _beautiful_ voice. So kind, so gentle, so soft – so _long_ since he had heard it.

It had to be Starfire's voice at that moment, wouldn't it?

Dick's lips trembled as he silently gasped multiple times; his chest heaving terribly. He didn't turn around. He couldn't face her. The loneliness without her and his other friends had been so great, but pushed away to avoid remembering – luckily, he had found great comfort in Slade. Now just from hearing her voice, the loneliness came crashing down; burying Dick's heart beneath its creaking weight.

Now that he was confronted with the thought of facing her and perhaps the others, the crushing realization of just how much he had missed them was beginning to destroy him. He had missed them _so very much_. He had dreamed of the day he would see them again. How many times had they filled his nights with their happy faces?

But not like this – he hadn't dreamed of meeting them like this.

"Is that…"

Dick clenched his eyes closed, hearing Cyborg's voice. They were all there, weren't they? They were a team, after all. Of course they'd be there together. How foolish he'd been. He shouldn't have interfered. The Teen Titans would've taken care of the robbers. Why had he forgotten that?

His shoulders began to shake. He was so afraid; so _terrified_ to hear what they might say, think, or feel about him. He couldn't bear it if his friends hated him now. Losing them just wasn't an option. But they would've heard about the adoption; they would wonder why.

And Dick had already poured his feelings out on paper and they hadn't gotten their mail yet – Wintergreen had just mailed those letters _today_.

Dick slowly turned his head towards the source of Starfire's voice. A wave of emotion poured through him. There they all were, each wearing their own shocked looks on their faces. Even Raven looked completely startled to see him. She was levitating in the air while Cyborg and Beast Boy stood near each other.

And Starfire… She was floating the nearest to him.

Utter shame poured through Dick's soul. He didn't want to face them like this – not when it looked like they were on opposite sides; even though he wasn't doing anything criminal, he sure looked like he was. He never wanted to face them like that. _Never_. But how could he explain the complexity of his feelings and situation? Dick couldn't even fully understand it himself sometimes.

He had hoped to face them when he had made a little more progress with Slade. Dick was starting to see more softness from the man and he _craved_ that – with all his heart. It seemed as if the man was completely getting used to him and Dick was seeing glimpses of a possibility – that, perhaps, one day he could pull the man out of the darkness.

But he needed more time.

But it was obviously that time had just run out.

Starfire lowered to the ground and reached out a hand towards him hesitantly.

"Ro–Robin?"

The paralyzing feeling escaped and Dick did the only thing he could think of.

He ran.

Dick tore away, darting up the street as fast as he could. He had to get away from them. He couldn't explain things to them yet. Not without the letters. There was no way he could articulate those words just how he crafted them on paper. He needed more time. He was sure that Slade had a good side to him – he had seen it countless times in the past months once they got past that first hard month. Dick didn't know how he was going to explain all this to them; they couldn't understand.

He was just too frightened; facing them was more than he could handle at that very moment.

Dick shot a grappling hook upward towards a roof, using all his acrobatic body to vault himself into the air. With another grappling hook, he flew through the air to land onto a rooftop. Then, he bolted to the other side. With adrenaline pushing him forward, he leapt off the edge of the roof, flying through the night air. His pounding heart raced at top speed as he was weightless in the air. He landed onto another rooftop across the street, rolling out of the jump before returning to his feet and continuing to bolt as fast as his heart could go.

"_Robin!_"

Dick heard that name called again. He couldn't answer to it, though. His mask had long been pulled off. He was Dick Grayson now. He couldn't be Robin to them yet. It wasn't that he'd given up on that Robin; he just needed time. He needed space. Yet, somehow, the Titans didn't want to give him space.

Well, _obviously_.

"_Yo!_ Dude, we just wanna talk!" shouted Cyborg, his voice coming up high. Dick figured that Beast Boy or Raven was carrying him.

Dick leapt off the other side of the rooftop he was on, allowing himself to drop down. He pulled out another grappling hook from his utility belt as he fell and launched it; the end of the hook catching on a wall. His weight caught on the hook and he swung forward. He landed onto another rooftop and continued to run.

His brain wasn't quite thinking properly at that moment. All he could think about was getting away. All he could think about was getting back – getting back to him.

Getting back to his father.

The overwhelming need flooded over all his senses; blocking everything else out. He had to get back home. He needed Slade. He needed that reassuring look on the man's face. He needed that voice to anchor him. He needed his room. He needed to hide away.

Anything other than facing his friends within such a terrible situation.

No matter how much he wanted to stop and hug them; tell them that he was all right; that he'd been all right all this time; tell them how much he missed them – he couldn't. But why not? It was simple, wasn't it? Just stop and turn around. Why couldn't he do it? _Why?!_

When had he lost this kind of courage? He had never been afraid to fight against bad guys. When was he afraid to face his _friends?_

But there was a completely different question, the true question.

When was he ever truly brave?

Hadn't he run away from Bruce? Hadn't he kept secrets from his friends by donning the alter ego Red X? Hadn't he kept everything to himself, worried to ask for help?

When was he ever brave? He wasn't brave, especially now. The only time he was ever brave was when he was assured of victory. Jump City was perfect for that. _Robin_ could be as brave as he wanted; there were never any truly powerful villains here in Jump.

But then Slade showed up and threatened everything. He showed Dick the truth.

Dick was just a kid, a child who was afraid – a child who dressed up in a suit, who put on a mask, and pretended to be brave.

Well, there was no pretending now. Dick was truly afraid of what his friends would think and if he'd lose them. Losing them was the one thing that could unravel his heart. No matter the strength that he had gained over the past seven months, if he lost the _only_ friends he had ever been able to make, then all would be lost inside Dick's heart.

At least for quite a long time.

"Robin, _please stop!_"

Dick tried to block out the pleading cry that came from Starfire. The only thing he thought was each foot rushing forward, getting him closer and closer to the man he felt safe with, the one that could reassure him that everything was going to be all right, that man that would understand just what Dick was feeling from simply looking in his eyes and also be able to fix it.

But Dick really wasn't noticing that he was also leading his friends to that very same man.

His entire body pounded with his feet, his heart thudding against his chest as he ran. Finally, with one leap, he jumped onto the rooftop that signified that he was nearing home. He quickly leapt off the roof, using another grappling hook to soften his fall. Landing into a roll, he rushed forward onto his feet, still never stopping to catch his breath.

He skidded sideways into the darkened warehouse, his feet catching on aged fallen leaves. His feet slid out from beneath him and he had to use his hands to support himself. Once he got his balance back, he rushed to the keypad. With flying fingers, he punched in the passcode.

With a signaling noise, the door slid open.

Dick barreled through the door, the sliding door closing behind him. He heard the locks clicking into place. The only sounds that came into his hearing were the thudding of his heart against his chest and the familiar sounds of the gears clinking above. He leaned against door, the palms of his hot hands touching the cool metal surface of the door. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath. His pounding heart just wouldn't calm down.

What delightful sounds… Those soothing sounds of the gears.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Then, Dick saw Slade. The man turned in his seat from his place at the main computer to look at Dick in surprise. He stood up and walked over to him; stopping a foot in front of him. A look of concern filled his face for a moment before sliding into a neutral appearance. Dick noticed that the man was in his normal leisure clothing; black slacks and a white button up shirt.

Relief poured through Dick's heart. He wanted this man to touch him; his arm, his shoulder, his hair – heck, what he'd give for a hug right now – anything to anchored himself back to reality. Anything to remind him that everything was going to be all right and that he was safe.

And that he wasn't going to lose his friends.

"Dick, what's wrong?" asked Slade, the concern flooding through his face more. "You look like you've seen a ghost." The man's eye narrowed. "Did you get cut?"

"Uh—uh—um—"

Two powerful hands grabbed Dick's shoulders as he felt his legs give out beneath him. The only thing holding him up were those two strong hands. Dick closed his eyes beneath his mask, his breathing slowly beginning to calm.

"Dick, what on earth happened?" asked Slade, the worry getting stronger in the man's voice. Dick looked up at the man, unable to know what to say.

Then, his brain began to catch up to him. The Titans had been chasing him. They had _followed_ him. They probably would be here at any moment – heck, they'll probably break down the front door now; Cyborg's sonic cannon could blast through material far better than a normal explosive. Dick's eyes widened as he looked up into the face that he was so used to seeing for the past six months.

No mask.

Dang it.

"Um…" Dick tried to put on a smile, but it came off tense and nervous. "We, uh… might have a little company…"

"What?"

The wall exploded around Dick. There was a low cry of shock that burst from his mouth as he covered his head in protection. Arms wrapped around Dick's head protectively, pulling him into the man's firm chest. At that touch and that split moment, Dick took a deep calming breath; peace flooding over his senses just as much as the man's cologne did. There was no stopping the Teen Titans, was there? He was going to have to face them now – without those letters. Dick took another deep breath. No matter what, because this man was here, everything would turn out okay.

Well, he truly hoped, anyways.

Debris of stone and metal littered the floor on both sides of Dick and Slade. As the smoke settled, Slade pulled back slightly and Dick looked up to see irritation all throughout the man's face. Dick smiled timidly and there was a little nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

"Um… surprise?"

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Six: Torture Device – Torture comes in many ways and poor Dick discovers one way he'd much rather never experience again.

**Author's Notes:** WOO! Battle with Rose and dear Joey's made his official appearance. I totally played around with their powers. Yay me. XD Besides, it's far easier for Joey to talk if he can be telepathic.

AND… ENCOUNTER WITH THE TITANS! :3 LOL, chapter wasn't called 'The Behemoth Encounter' for nothin`! ^^

Okay, I'm totally considering this an epic entrance of the Titans. LOL. I had imagined that entrance weeks ago.

Aheh, told you it's cliffie week. XD

Oh, and be prepared for tomorrow. The funniest line in the _entire_ novel (least to me) is said in tomorrow's chapter. Oh, how I've waiting for this.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	47. Torture Device

**Author's Note:** *giggles* Thank you all for the continual reviews! They mean so much to me. ^.^ *another round of huggles galore*

So, I probably should've made it more clear to the fact that Cyborg's cannon is more powerful than the standard explosive – hence the reason why he could basically obliterate Slade's front door. XD

OKAY, so, this chapter has been written for WEEKS. I swear it. I had this written _ages_ ago. IT'S FINALLY HERE! *bounces excitedly*

Be prepared to laugh yourselves silly from this chapter (in the middle) and if you don't, I won't be able to hear about it because I'll be too busy laughing. Took me forever to get through the editing. XD

Carry on.

Oh, and yes… This _could_ be considered evil masterminded tendencies here. *shrugs* Maybe. Who knows. But ya'll should know me and my type torture by now, no?

*giggles*

Gentle note again: notice the date~ *winks*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

**Torture Device**

**March 13th, 2009. Friday, 12:01 am.**

Somehow, Slade did not look amused.

_Yup, sonic cannon beats explosive, hands down,_ thought Dick as his eyes glanced at the shattered debris of metal and stone around him.

"Oh yeah, _booyah!_" said Cyborg with a satisfied smirk, blowing off the steam from his cannon. Beast Boy leapt forward in the form of a vicious green tiger, growling and gnashing his teeth fiercely. Starfire flew forward, her emerald green eyes glowing ominously as she raised her hands in the air; green starbolts at the ready.

"_Where is Slade?_" shouted Starfire in a dark, frightening tone. "I shall rip him _limb from limb!_"

Raven settled to stand next to the tiger form of Beast Boy.

"What she said," said Raven in her deadpan tone; lifting her hands and ready to attack as well.

"You led them here?" asked Slade, looking directly into Dick's masked eyes; his impassive expression obviously showing that he was unaffected by the intrusion, yet he still didn't look pleased. Dick quickly shook his head.

"N–no… but they sort of followed me…" Dick fidgeted for a moment, biting his lower lip. Then, he whispered so that only Slade could hear him, "_They saw me_."

Slade completely ignored the Titans as he stared at Dick. There was a moment where Slade took a deep breath, his eyebrow raising as a slightly surprised light entered his grey blue eye.

"You ran. Why?"

Dick wasn't sure what to say. What could he say? No one could understand his feelings. His body had just moved, fleeing in fear from the terrible prospect of explaining everything to his friends. He was close to Slade, but he doubted that Slade could really understand. Words couldn't formulate within Dick's mouth. They were locked away in his heart; sealed from bringing their releasing powers.

So, he did the only thing he could do: he removed the mask from his eyes. His hand slipped up to the edge of the material and carefully pulled it off. Dick clutched the mask nervously as he stared desperately into Slade's visible grey blue eye; willing the man to understand what he himself couldn't fully understand.

Dick's eyes were filled with anxiety, fear, hope, and shame.

There was another moment where Slade stared into his eyes. His eyebrow twitched briefly. Then, the man seemed to avert his eye, before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head as he folded his arms.

"I see. You're still going to have to explain this to them," said Slade in an undertone to Dick, although the Titans could still hear him speaking. Dick nodded nervously.

"I know," answered Dick, taking a deep breath.

"Robin, what is going on? Why—" Starfire stopped as Dick stepped forward slowly. Each step was heavy as he kept his head down. He had to face them now. There was no going back. They'd never leave him here if they didn't understand. He hadn't turned sides, but he needed them to understand.

But showing them his face without the mask… That was difficult. But it wasn't fair that Slade knew his identity and his friends didn't. They needed to see him. They needed to see Dick. He needed them to understand that he wasn't Robin now.

It was now or never.

Dick stopped. He slowly turned around, keeping his head bowed. Then, still ever so slowly, he lifted his head to look up at his friends. His hands were clutched at his sides, clasping against the taunt fabric of his apprentice suit. His shoulders were slightly hunched as he faced them. The group widened their eyes as they saw his unmasked face.

"Hi–hi, guys…" said Dick, trying extremely hard not to tremble.

"Robin, are you all right, dude?" asked Beast Boy carefully, after he transformed back into a human. He looked hesitant, as if he were dealing with a skittish wild animal. "I mean, where's Slade?"

Dick glanced uncertainly at Slade, searching for a sign of approval from the man. Slade closed his eye for a brief moment, before nodding lightly as he reopened it.

"Um… He's right here…" said Dick, his eyes flittering everywhere but directly into each of the Titans' eyes. He'd break down if he looked into their hearts.

"Slade is here?" asked Starfire, glancing around once. Raven caught on immediately and stared at the man with contempt in her eyes; unfazed by his unmasked appearance.

"Where?" asked Beast Boy with a confused look on his face; darting his head side to side, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the masked man.

Dick was trembling. Oh, he didn't want to did this now. He needed to be alone. He didn't want to have this conversation right now. But honestly, what could he say? _"Sorry guys, come back tomorrow and I'll explain everything then."_

_Yeah, right_.

Dick raised a trembling arm and gently pointed in the direction of Slade, who was standing next to him with a vaguely bored expression. The Titans all turned the gaze towards the man. Beast Boy's eyes went so wide, Dick thought they were going to pop out of his head. Cyborg growled and pointed his arm towards Slade; the cannon in his arm powering up. Starfire's eyes glowed again as she raised a hand to shoot a starbolt.

Dick found himself rushing to stand in front of Slade, his arms lifted up. Slade's eye widened in surprise.

"Wait guys, stop!" cried Dick frantically. "Wait—just a minute. _Please_."

"Robin. What are you doing? Get out of the way," said Raven, her hands glowing with the dark light of her power; her guard still up. "We're here to rescue you."

Dick clasped his hands nervously as he watched his friends.

"I—I know that. But ca—can we talk first. Please? You don't need to fight."

"_Don't need to fight?_" started Cyborg incredulously. "Dude, this man has had you kidnapped for _months!_ _Months!_ We've been going out of our _minds_ with worry over you! Do you have any idea how it's been for us?"

"I… I know… But can you wait? Please?"

The Titans all glanced uneasily at each other, extremely confused. Slowly, each of them relaxed their tense states. Starfire looked extremely worried. Dick tried to look at ease and normal, but he knew he was doing a poor job at it. He was so nervous with them, he found it strange and unnerving. He turned his glance around to Slade.

"Can we talk in the kitchen, please?" asked Dick, sending Slade a desperate look. His heart pleaded for the man to let him have this. He gave the man his most desperate and sincere look that he could muster within his nervousness. There was a moment where Slade's eyebrow twitched as he looked down at Dick. Then, there was a low, exasperated sigh as that grey blue eye averted his piercing gaze. Slade nodded sharply and turned away, walking towards the door of the kitchen. Dick let out a sigh of relief and motioned to his friends, trying to smile.

"Come to the kitchen, all right?" said Dick, smiling nervously; his entire body feeling tense.

At first, the Titans exchanged thoroughly confused looks. Then, Beast Boy was the first to loosen up and shrugged, as if saying, _"Well, there's no harm, right?"_ There was another awkward moment before they began to follow Dick towards the door of the kitchen. His stomach was flopping back and forth with butterflies, and his heart was fluttering apprehensively.

This definitely had to be strange. Mmm, yup; strange indeed.

The door to the kitchen was open after Slade entered and Dick followed after him; the Titans close behind. Wintergreen was sitting at the table with a newspaper when he looked up.

"Richard, you're back—_is that blood on your face?!_ What—"

Wintergreen stopped abruptly as the rest of the Titans entered. He looked momentarily startled by the precession, but put on a broad smile as he stood up.

"We have company. Splendid! I'll go get us a few more chairs," said Wintergreen happily, leaving the room to go down the hallway.

"Who's that?" asked Beast Boy.

"That's William Wintergreen; Slade's butler and close friend," answered Dick, taking a deep breath and wishing his nerves would calm down already.

"Slade has a butler?" said Cyborg with a raised eyebrow.

"More importantly: he has a _friend?_" said Beast Boy; his tone in complete disbelief. Dick repressed an eye roll at that. Slade walked over the countertop and poured himself a cup of coffee; leaning against the counter as he watched the group quietly. Within moments, Wintergreen returned with two fold up chairs under each arm. He set them around the table, clapped his hands together, and looked pleasantly at the group as they slowly sat down.

"Would anyone like something to drink or some snacks?" asked Wintergreen, glancing at each of the Titans; appearing to be thoroughly enjoying this turn of events.

"Um… I'll take a—_ow!_" Beast Boy was cut off with a sharp nudge to his ribcage from Raven's elbow. He gave her an annoyed glare. "What?"

"Don't drink anything from them; it might be drugged, you idiot," warned Raven, sounding annoyed and exasperated by her friend's stupidity.

"How many times do I have to say that I don't drug children?" demanded Wintergreen, looking greatly offended as he placed his hands onto his hips.

"Seriously, guys. It's all right. The food is safe," said Dick, glancing nervously between his friends and the old man that was still looking quite offended by the accusation.

"Honestly, if I wanted to poison the four of you, I would've done it months ago," drawled Slade, lifting his mug to his lips.

"_Slade!_"

Slade chuckled as he sipped his drink; unfazed by Dick's glare that was attempting to burn into him. Seeing that it was best he wasn't around, Wintergreen slipped out of the room with a light smile on his face. Beast Boy paled at the comment, while Raven shot the man a dark glower. But the group also exchanged odd glances between Dick and the man, as if intrigued to their interaction.

Dick slipped into a chair nervously. He kept his hands beneath the table, clasping them fretfully. His palpitating heart would just not calm down. This wasn't going to be easy.

"S–so, how've you guys been?" said Dick weakly. The other Titans gave him incredulous stares, Starfire included.

"_How've we been?_" repeated Cyborg, looking thoroughly irritated through his incredulity. "How the _freaking heck_ do you _think_ we've been? We've been worried _sick_ about you!"

Dick could only nod at that, swallowing once. In a way, he wished he still had those letters – could've delivered them in person.

"What happened? Why did you run away from us?" demanded Raven.

"Um…" Dick turned his head aside, looking down at the table surface. Oh. Wintergreen had put a new tablecloth on.

Man, this was going to be difficult.

"Dude! What's the matter with you?" cried Beast Boy. "Why are you so… so…" He trailed off, obviously unable to voice his feelings.

_Why are you so…_

'_Why are you so different?'_

Beast Boy's unspoken words flittered inside Dick's mind. He took a deep breath, feeling extremely unsettled.

He _was_ different. Seven months was a long time – people can grow and change during that time; especially in trying situations. While Dick didn't consider what he had with Slade as a trying situation anymore, it _had_ been for some time. Dick had always been different than Robin, but now he was even more different because Robin had slowly slipped away.

He was just Dick now.

Would he be enough? Would his friends accept him?

"I–I guess I owe you the whole story…"

"_Ya think?!_" cried Cyborg. He glanced at Slade for a moment before setting a fierce gaze back onto Dick. "Why does this feel like a _social call?_ You were kidnapped by a criminal and now it's like we're having tea in his kitchen!"

"Uh, we didn't actually get anything," said Beast Boy in a pointed tone. Cyborg growled and glared at Beast Boy, who cowered slightly beneath it.

"_Shut up, BB!_"

"Friends, let us not fight," said Starfire, looking worried.

"I agree with Starfire that we need to keep our emotions in control," started Raven, although looking extremely tense herself. "But I still agree with Cyborg. We've… Everything has been terrible for each of us in Robin's absence and yet, why does everything seem _normal_ here?"

Dick bit his lower lip. Raven was right. His friends had gone crazy with worry while he was gone and he hadn't been able to tell them he was all right until recently, but even now the letters hadn't arrived. They hadn't been able to read all those things he had told them.

"Um," started Dick, trying hard not to bite his lower lip, but failing at it. "So, you've heard about the, uh… adoption, right?"

"Yeah! I bet he made you do it, right, Robin?" piped Beast Boy. "Held you at gunpoint or something, right?"

"N–not exactly…"

"_What?!_" shouted the entire group at once, in different volumes. Dick couldn't help but flinch from their violent reactions. His heart clenched horribly at their shocked, confused, outraged, and betrayed looks on their faces. Dick ended up biting his lower lip some more for a moment, ducking his head down.

"I… I, uh, sent you guys letters explaining things…" murmured Dick, knowing that information was slightly useless for the Titans at that moment.

Immediately, his friends set their glares onto Slade, as if blaming the man for not mailing the letters. A wry lift tugged at Slade's mouth as he turned to his head side to side as if questioning why they were staring at him.

"Will mailed them today," whispered Dick, still keeping his head down. "That's why…"

Dick trailed off, swallowing once. This was so hard; his throat was sealed. How he wanted to explain things to them; pour out the energies of his soul to each of them and explain _everything_. But he couldn't. Why did his voice feel so weak? Why was he so nervous around his friends? It was a terribly strange situation, but his friends were understanding, weren't they? They'd see how things changed and how everything was all right now.

Wouldn't they?

The emotions of his heart overflowed. It seemed too much for him to take at that moment. All his fears and insecurities were crushing him in their overbearing weight – the fear, the _horrible_ fear that his friends wouldn't accept him anymore because of one simple choice. Just like Red X. The thought of losing his friends was just too much. Somehow, his heart couldn't handle the stress he was placing on himself. He suddenly felt ill.

Dick started trembling. His throat constricted terribly as his breathing intensified against its obstruction. His already palpitating heart began to flutter uncontrollably in his chest; falling and lifting in a collapsing feeling. He began to feel a familiar suffocating sensation in his chest and throat. Panic and fear began to fill Dick's heart as he realized what was happening to him.

_No, no, no, no, no! Not now! There's nothing wrong like last time. These are my friends, for crying out loud. Why the heck am I having a panic attack over it!?_

Dick was already curling up in his chair as he struggled to breath; his entire body trembling terribly. Black stars popped in his sight. The sounds around him began to close off once again like so many months before; a dull flood blocking out his surroundings. His gasped for breath with his constricting lungs, trying to calmly breathe in his panic attack, but he couldn't seem to manage it. He knew what was going on, but he just couldn't stop it.

He needed help.

"_Robin!_" cried Starfire, bolting into the air from her chair to hover over him. Cyborg was on his feet in seconds, standing near Dick.

"Dude, what's wrong with him?" questioned Beast Boy, looking confused. Raven quickly stood up, masked worry beginning to fill her features.

Within an instant of seeing the danger, Slade had set his mug of coffee onto the countertop and was at the boy's side in a second. Cyborg growled and his cannon powered up; pointing directly at Slade's face, causing him to pause briefly as he stared down the blue void of the cannon.

"You _stay away_ from him," hissed Cyborg. "You did this to him, _didn't you!_"

Slade's only visible eye widened in anger as he glared at the oldest teen. How dare this brat _threaten _him!

"You are in _my_ home," said Slade in a terribly soft, icy tone. "You _barreled_ inside here – which I will waiver, since I know the circumstances are odd, to say the least – but you have _no_ right to point your weapon at me and keep me away from _my son_. _Especially_ when he's having a panic attack from _your_ presence—_now out of my way!_"

Cyborg's human eye widened in shock, his cannon lowering slightly. Slade immediately roughly pushed the cannon away and knelt down beside Dick; quickly pulling his chair out from the table and placing two hands on Dick's middle arms.

"Dick!" snapped Slade in a firm tone. "_Breathe!_"

The other Titans stood helpless – Starfire lowering to the ground – as they watched Slade try to calm Dick down. Cyborg's arm slowly lowered completely, the cannon powering down.

"Dick, look at me," commanded Slade, his tone sharp, yet soft in its smoothness. When only gasping breaths were his answer, Slade gently withdrew one hand from the boy's arms and touched his chin; slowly lifting his head to look at him. Dick's eyes were glassed over as he gasped for breath, yet there was a deep set fear in those eyes.

Slade moved his hand back to its place on the boy's arm, slowly beginning to rub both of them; sliding up and down along the textured Kevlar material.

But it wasn't working.

It was like he couldn't feel Slade's presence. Everything was blocked. Slade was beginning to get a little worried now – the boy was _struggling_ to _breathe_. Not necessarily a good thing here. Breathing was one of those things needed to sustain life – and that boy was having a hard time keeping up with it.

Slade moved his hands to clasp over Dick's cheeks; rubbing the skin with his fingers and ignoring the dried blood on his one cheek. Slade could feel the Titans stiffen around him, but he ignored them. Bringing Dick back was far more important.

With this touch, Dick's eyes started to fill with light. He blinked once, his eyes widening as he took in Slade. As Slade saw those eyes dart around the room, no doubt soaking in the appearance of his friends, Dick started to delve back into the panic attack; his breath catching once in his throat. Slade tightened his grip on Dick's face, patting his cheeks once in a slightly sharp tap.

"Stop that. Look at me. _Calm down_."

Those eyes flitted back to look at Slade. They were wide with fear, shame, and then they flashed with longing as they realized who was holding him. They seemed to latch onto Slade; begging for help. Slade slowly began to stroke the boy's cheeks with his fingers; gently lacing over the skin in a soothing motion. Just from that action, the boy's breathing quickly began to regulate. Every muscle seemed to loosen and further light returned in those crystal blue eyes.

Slade's heart couldn't help but twinge sharply in his chest at the look in the boy's eyes. So much emotion was writhing in those crystal orbs. It reminded Slade of what happened to Dick after he finished writing those letters. All the emotions that the boy had stored in the letters were now resurfacing; his soul becoming torn from them. What he had already lived through once was replaying again and within the most strenuous situation of all.

No wonder this poor boy had a panic attack.

Slade knew Dick was worried about his friends, but he hadn't ever realized just how much it affected the boy. He was making himself sick with the worry and fear. Slade couldn't believe that the boy had fled from his own friends to come back – come back _here_. Dick truly trusted and relied on Slade with everything of his soul. Somehow Dick had come to need Slade so much – perhaps _just_ as much, if not _more_ than he needed his friends, whom he'd known longer.

Slade was struck with another humbling impression.

He squeezed the boy's cheeks gently, softening his expression to be more reassuring. He dropped his voice to a low, smooth whisper; leaning closer so that only the boy could hear him.

"_Everything will be all right, Dick._"

Dick latched onto those words; letting the calm flow over his heart. He nodded in small, slightly jerky movements. He was vaguely aware that Slade's hands were engulfing his cheeks, gently stroking his skin. They felt so warm and comforting that Dick almost closed his eyes; wishing he could forget everything. He just wanted everything to be fine. He didn't want to fight; he hated arguing. He didn't want to have to do this _before_ the letters. Why couldn't this have happened _after_ the dang letters?

After a moment, Slade slowly withdrew his hands and stood up; walking away to the countertop. Dick tried not become alarmed by the cool air that glanced over his unprotected cheeks. His arms were still tightly curled around his waist and he slowly began to loosen up. There was a long moment where Dick didn't look up to face his friends. It was too horrible to think that he'd had a panic attack with them around; not only that, he was pretty sure that _they_ were the cause of it.

And that just made it all worse.

Dick noticed out of the corner of his eye that Slade was getting a mug out of the cabinet. The man took out a box of hot chocolate packets, ripped one open, dumped the contents into the mug, and poured piping hot water into the mug from a kettle. A few moments later, Dick was presented with a warm mug of hot chocolate. Dick accepted it wordlessly as Slade pointed down at it with a single finger; a stern, yet gentle light entering the man's eye.

"Drink it."

Dick obeyed, blowing on it for a brief moment before bringing the mug to his lips; letting the sweet, warm liquid slide over his tongue and down his throat. He felt Slade stand over him and place a hand on his shoulder. Dick soaked up the double warmth – one from the mug in his hands and the other from that comforting hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes as he continued to sip.

"Now," began Slade's voice sharply above Dick; his tone filled with that no nonsense ring that usually meant trouble. The man's hand squeezed his shoulder once. "Whatever the circumstances, let me make one thing _crystal clear_. You are here as intruders in _my_ home. You know who I am. I can very well keep you locked up here; never to allow you to see the daylight again—_oh, yes I can_. _But_ I have allowed you here on a branch of amity, you could say. Chatter, talk, fight, argue, giggle, laugh – _I don't care_. You _will not_, however, railroad Dick under any circumstances. _Do I make myself clear?_"

A wry voice lifted in Dick's mind. _Well, that's what you get for becoming the adopted son of a military man._

There was silence as the other Titans slowly sat back down in their seats. Each were staring at Dick with slight confused and concerned expressions. Starfire was sitting nearest to Dick and after a moment, she slowly reached out to him; placing a hand on the middle of his arm. Dick slowly lowered the half empty mug onto the table. He withdrew his hands and settled them in his lap. After a moment, Starfire's hand lifted away.

"Robin… Are you quite all right?"

"_Dude?!_" cried Beast Boy suddenly. "What the heck just happened here?"

"He had a panic attack," snapped Slade, obviously becoming annoyed, his hand clenching once on Dick's shoulder. "The lot of you exploding in here was enough to give anyone a heart attack."

"Why don't you drop dead, Slade," growled Cyborg, glaring up at the man. "_You_ stole Robin. For all we know it could've been all the stress of being cooped up here with _you!_"

"_It's not_… It's not because of that I had a panic attack," whispered Dick. "And I'm not Robin."

Numerous voices flooded the air.

"As _if_ I'd believe that. You can't believe that—right, Robin?"

"It's not healthy to get panic attacks, Robin."

"Not Robin…? Who are you, then?"

"But, Robin, you've never gotten these attackie-whatsits before—"

"_I'm not Robin!_" cried Dick, his hands shaking in his lap. His friends flinched slightly; each exchanging hurt looks. His tone softened suddenly. "I'm not… I'm not Robin… right now. I'm just Richard Grayson; _Dick Grayson_. Okay? Robin is someone different. He's _always_ been different. You just never knew. I always hid Dick from you guys. I always thought he was someone… weaker."

There was another reassuring squeeze from that hand.

"So, I hid him," continued Dick in a whisper. "After all these months, Dick resurfaced. That's who I am and that's who I've always been. It's okay… if you want to call me Robin still. You just have to understand. That driven, serious, focused guy – he doesn't really exist anymore. I'm just me now; no two identities."

Each of the Titans gained stricken looks on their faces, as if Dick had just told them someone had died. He didn't mean to make it sound so bad. But he supposed they didn't really understand – they had never assumed separate identities for hero work. They were who they were, but Dick had always hid behind the mask.

Another thing he had learned from Bruce.

There was silence between the group. After a moment, Slade withdrew; walking over to his spot at the counter and picking up his mug of coffee. He leaned against the countertop, watching the group carefully. Even more silence lifted through the air.

Beast Boy glanced from Dick to the others until he finally piped up, "Can somebody _please_ say something before I go crazy here? Somebody explain something that makes sense already!"

"Uh… yeah," started Dick, biting his lower lip. He looked up at the group; his hands fidgeting in his lap. "About the adoption—"

"You really did agree to it, didn't you?" asked Raven, her voice completely deadpan, and yet there was a slightly injured tone within it. Dick's lower lip trembled at the sound of her voice. He looked into her violet eyes and gave her a small, meek nod.

There was an explosion from the boys.

"_Seriously!?_"

"_This has got to be a joke!_"

"Look, guys," cried Dick in a plea. "Would you hear me out? The whole story from start to finish, please?" He looked at each of his friends, his eyes connecting with each one; resting finally on Starfire. "_Please?_"

He knew this would take hours and hours if the group interrupted after everything. He hoped they would at least listen to him. There was a long moment before he received a group of grumbles and nods. Thus, Dick slowly delved into the story of the past few months.

It felt strange telling them. It was odd to relive the events, but as Dick did so, he realized just how far he and Slade had come. It was an amazing journey for the two of them. They had gone from Hero and Villain to father and son. They had destroyed the barrier and came to an understanding: they needed each other. Slade was still his frightening self at times, but Dick understood when it was directed at him and when it wasn't. Not to mention Dick did his best to keep the man's ire directed away from him.

He started off with the pleasant times; the more recent times, telling them how the adoption came about. But then, he knew they needed the whole story and he reluctantly told his friends about the beginning days; how the two of them fought and how Slade wasn't exactly all flowers and rainbows. Then, Dick told them that there came a point that Slade did a three sixty and changed. It was at that point that he was interrupted.

"Just how the heck did Slade change? Huh?" demanded Cyborg.

"Yeah, dude! You can't expect us that he's suddenly _changed!_"

Dick hesitated. He understood the need to explain how Slade had changed, but he certainly didn't want to give them the _exact_ details. It was far too embarrassing and mortifying. He probably could've lived it down had it been Bruce since the man could scare the crap out of them. Well, not that Slade couldn't intimidate them as well. It just seemed way more humiliating. How could he tell his friends that Slade went from abusive captor to firm handed father figure?

And that he was okay with it.

_Well, sort of_…

"Um…"

Slade smirked; Dick had no doubt that the man saw this as a perfect opportunity to tease him. "_Yes_, Dick. Do tell your friends _how_ I've changed."

Dick blushed and ducked his head for a minute. Dang it. That freaking man was really enjoying this part. The sadistic teasing side of Slade was kicking in full force now.

"Well… um…" started Dick, hoping that his face wasn't showing the heat that was starting to creep up there. "Slade stopped bring rough with me. He stopped beating me and decided to, um… punish me differently whenever I fought against him."

"But why would Slade even need to… punish you, Robin?" asked Starfire, her bright green eyes blinking worriedly. "You are very good."

Oh man.

_Just shoot me now, please. Get it over with, already._

"Yeah, man!" cried Beast Boy indignantly. "It's not like he's your real father or anything crazy like that." Beast Boy hesitated. "Or… or is he? And–and that's why—"

"No, no; he's not my real father," said Dick, quickly overriding Beast Boy before his excitable, nerdy green friend went on a tangent.

"This is messed up, man," said Cyborg, shaking his head. "I think he's brainwashed you. _Let's get him, Titans!_"

"Wait!" cried Dick, standing up and holding out his hands as his friends began to move for an attack. "Please guys, just listen."

There were grumbles as they all settled back down in their seats. Beast Boy folded his arms sulkily. Cyborg leaned on the table with an elbow and drummed his fingers on the surface impatiently. Dick slid back down in his chair slowly, continuing after a moment.

"Look, guys. You know what parents are like and—"

"_That's just it!_" cried Cyborg incredulously, slamming his hand down onto the table so hard that Dick flinched. He pointed at Slade. "_He's_ not your parent."

"Well, he _is_ now," retorted Dick, getting annoyed at his friends' stubbornness. Why couldn't they just shut up and listen? "And he's been fair after that first month. Sure we had a rough beginning, but that's all over now. He punishes me fairly now when I mess up."

"_Mess up?_ _How_, then?" demanded Cyborg. "How can we be sure he's not doing anything bad or weird to you?"

Dick hesitated, feeling his face flush slightly. He couldn't help but snip, "It's–it's not any of your business how the man keeps me in line."

"_He's a criminal!_ _He's_ the one who should be kept in line!" cried Beast Boy hysterically, jumping to his feet and pointing at Slade. Dick ducked his head, feeling the heat in his face burn even more. He wished they'd drop the subject. But he understood they were just being protective of him. But still, why couldn't they just drop it?

Raven's eyebrows furrowed as she watched Dick, obviously feeling the embarrassed feelings emanating from him.

"How exactly," began Raven slowly, "does he punish you?"

"Um…"

"I spank him," came Slade's even voice, overriding Dick's hesitancies. Dick's eyes snapped wide as the heat immediately flooded through his face and all the way to his ears. He whirled his head around to glare at the man, who was looking extremely amused over the whole situation now; bringing the mug of coffee to his smirking lips.

"_Slade!_ _Shudup!_"

The look in Slade's eye totally said, _"Serves you right for leading them here, boy."_ The entire group of Titans fell silent, staring straight at Dick; who in turn looked anywhere but them. Beast Boy and Cyborg's eyes nearly bugged out of their heads. Starfire tilted her head to the side, looking very confused. Raven opened her mouth for a moment before closing it. She lifted her hands to her head; massaging both of her temples with two of her fingers.

"Come… again?" said Raven, sounding taken aback and bemused.

"Please, what is this 'spank' that you speak of?" asked Starfire, looking uncertainly between the group. "It is a criminal torture device, yes?"

That broke the tension.

Beast Boy fell into uncontrollable laughter with Cyborg close behind him. Beast Boy was laughing so hard that he fell to the floor, rolling back and forth as his hysterics filled the kitchen. Cyborg slapped the table as he continued his laughter. Starfire still looked thoroughly confused until Raven began to whisper in her ear.

Dick wanted die. Oh, how he wanted to die.

As Raven whispered in Starfire, the alien's expression turned from confusion to horror. She clasped her hands to her mouth and cried, "How barbaric!"

The embarrassment was killing Dick. He was ready to escort – more like _throw_ – them out here as soon as possible. He did not want to talk about his odd relationship with Slade to them. He was still getting used to it himself sometimes. It was strange having Slade look after him like a parent. Nothing could've been stranger.

But he liked it.

Dick was happy with it – happier then he'd ever been in his life since the time his parents died. He understood what Slade was, though. And there was a part of his soul that truly hoped that Slade would allow him to be a hero again. But he also knew that such things took time. He knew the good points and the bad points of the man; and Dick choose to see the good in the man, hoping to bring out more.

After all, that's what life was all about.

"He—he _spanks_ you!" cried Beast Boy finally, still laughing hysterically on the floor. At this, Cyborg broke down into even more laughter. "Dude, that's so—so—" They never found out what it was since Beast Boy couldn't talk through his hysterics.

"Man, BB," cried Cyborg through the hilarity. "Can you imagine Robin draped over Slade's knees and getting a butt whupping?"

Dick's face couldn't go any more crimson than it was at that very moment. Beast Boy roared at Cyborg's statement. Raven rolled her eyes, looking tired; although, Dick was positive he saw the edges of her mouth twitch. Starfire was the only one who looked concerned over the whole matter.

"Robin, are you sure you are all right? This is—"

"I'm fine, Star. Really, it's no big deal," said Dick flatly, although his bright red face contradicted his words. "A lot of parents punish their kids like that here on earth."

The other two boys guffawed loudly again. Slade was beginning to look annoyed with all the noise and he suddenly slammed his hand on the countertop. It stopped the laughter for a moment, just long enough for Slade to throw out a dark threat with an roguish smirk on his face.

"I'm more than willing to try it out on _you_ two if you keep up this irritating laughter in my kitchen," said Slade, his single grey blue eye glinting so dangerously that it even sent a chill down Dick's back.

That shut the boys up.

Beast Boy scrambled into his chair, his hands clasped in his lap with his pointed ears drooping slightly. He glanced nervously at Slade. Cyborg looked mortified at the thought and turned his head away. Dick shot Slade a thankful look; although he wasn't sure why, since it was the man's fault in the first place they had learned of it. But he was still grateful that Slade cared enough to do some damage control.

Nonetheless, Dick's face couldn't stop burning from the overall, extremely awkward situation.

There was a long painful silence for a few moments between the group. Dick fidgeted in his chair. He didn't know what more to say now. His brain had fried from the heat in his face – he was sure of it. He took it back: the first time he experienced Slade walloping him was not his most humiliating moment of his life. Nope, this moment was – took the gold metal completely.

"Look… guys…" started Dick, completely unsure what he was going to say next.

"I don't get this," said Cyborg softly in a low voice; his tone sounding resentful. "You can't honestly be telling you're all right with this jerk being all… all _fatherly_ and crap. It's just weird."

"I know…" murmured Dick. "I really don't get it myself sometimes, but it just sort of happened, you know."

"No, I _don't_ know," snapped Cyborg. "He _hurt_ you, all right? You admitted it. How could you accept him after all that?"

The other three Titans looked at Dick with sober eyes. It was apparent that they had the same question. Dick wasn't sure what the answer was at first. How _did_ Dick come to the point of forgiving Slade and accepting him? What was it that made the past forgotten and the future looked forward to? Was it truly that moment where he tested the man? Or had it been a little more; the daily moments building upon each other in soft, gentle increments?

Dick took a deep breath, remembering the moments and understanding his trust in the man.

"He changed," murmured Dick. "He choose to change so that we would get along better. He made the effort. Ever since then, everything got better and I learned things…"

"But isn't that just because he wants you for his apprentice or something?" asked Beast Boy.

"The initial kidnapping; yeah, it was," nodded Dick. "But the adoption wasn't. That was between Richard Grayson and Slade Wilson."

"And you believe that?" demanded Cyborg incredulously, his eyebrows popping up.

"Slade has proven himself to be a man of his word, if nothing else," said Dick with a firm nod. "That much I trust. I am Slade Wilson's adopted son. It doesn't have anything to do with being Slade's apprentice."

There was a set of scoffs from the two boys.

"_Dude!_"

"That's the same thing."

"It's not!" protested Dick, his tone rising slightly. "It's not the same thing!"

There were more scoffs as the two boys shook their heads in obvious disgust. Dick bit the interior of his lips to stop them from trembling. Why couldn't they understand? Why did they have to make this more difficult? Dick didn't want to be the man's 'evil' apprentice, but there was still a wish in Dick's heart that the man would continue to teach him. Maybe Slade would let him still do his hero work…

That is, if the Teen Titans even let him back as a team member let alone as their leader.

Dick moodily looked over at the two girls who were remaining silent.

"Don't you two have anything to say?" asked Dick, sounding almost hurt. Raven let out a sigh.

"I just don't fully understand all this either," said Raven in her quiet, monotone voice. "Put yourself in our places, would you? You've been missing for seven months. We could only assume that you were kidnapped by Slade – we didn't even fully know that much. We had no way of knowing how you were treated. If we let out imaginations run wild, we could've thought up a lot—_a lot_ of terrible things."

Dick nodded slightly, understanding that. If he hadn't experienced this, he'd probably react the same. He supposed he should be more patient with his friends over their ire with this.

"I, too, do not understand," whispered Starfire. "Was not… the Batman your K'Norfka? How could you change him? Is that how it is done on earth?"

"Um, Star… Batman was never my, uh, K'Norfka," said Dick. His throat dried suddenly, making it hard for him to talk. But he had to speak the words. He had to make them understand that he hadn't ever viewed Batman as a father – only as a mentor or old brother. "He's not my father. He took me in when my… my parents died when I was seven years old; but I haven't had a father in almost eight years."

Starfire's bright emerald eyes glistened once as she listened. A deep sorrow seemed to flow over her countenance.

"I know all this is strange," continued Dick, looking over the group solemnly. "But during these months, the two of us changed and we've reached an agreement. Somehow, Slade fits the father bill. I have no idea why or how to explain it. All I know is it just is. I know it's all weird and everything, but I need this."

Dick began to wring his hands nervously in his lap.

"I'm _happy_, guys," whispered Dick in a very low voice. "For the first time in almost eight years, I'm happy with a parent. I know it's strange to say it's _Slade_ of all people, but he's really been looking out for me. It's hard to explain… But I'm not afraid of the future. I won't let… certain things happen."

Dick hesitated for a moment, hoping that his friends would understand what he was alluding to. He didn't want to flat out say that he wasn't going to be an assassin or mercenary with Slade in the room. A part of him actually wanted to be the man's apprentice, but not in the way Slade wanted. He loved going on a mission with the man and fighting at his side, but only if it was helping someone else. But Dick was pretty sure he'd never be able to convince the man to be someone like that.

"And…" started Dick, biting his lip. "And it'd be really nice if you guys could respect this and even eventually be happy with me. I know it'll take some time getting used to…"

Dick trailed off as he looked over the group of his friends. Each had their own displeased look. While Starfire's wasn't angry or anything, Dick could tell she seemed uncertain. Raven's lips were pursed as if she was trying to control herself. Cyborg looked thoroughly unhappy with a hint of disgust. Beast Boy looked grumpy over the whole thing.

Guess that answers that.

"I'll have to think about it," said Cyborg grudgingly, turning his head away.

"Yeah, me too," nodded Beast Boy. Raven merely nodded silently. It seemed like they were done. The three of them stood and began to walk towards the door of the kitchen.

"We'll be leaving. No need to show us the way out," said Cyborg, his tone filled with bitterness. "Since you're _obviously_ not coming with us."

"Wa—wait," called Dick, his heart constricting as he watched the three of them standing there. Cyborg gave him a raised eyebrow; holding a mixture of slightly hope and irritation. "C—could you do me a favor and not say anything to Batman?"

The hope fled from Cyborg's expression.

"Sure," said Cyborg; his tone overflowing with resentment. "Not like it matters, anyways. He basically told us to give up hope, saying this adoption was Slade's way of telling us that he's really got you now."

Cyborg glanced over at Slade; his expression softening to pure despair and hurt.

"Guess he was right."

Dick's heart felt as if it were being crushed in half as he watched the three of them walk out. Every part of his soul was crying and it was taking everything he had not to burst into tears at that moment. Cyborg's words were tearing him apart, inside out.

Batman had given up hope over him.

Only Starfire remained behind, looking quietly at him; but after a moment, she slowly rose to her feet.

"Star… I—"

"I want you to be happy, Robin," whispered Starfire, her voice painfully soft. "I will try to understand, but I am not sure when that will be. But… I will try."

And with that, she left the room.

ooOOOOOoo

**March 13th, 2009. Friday, 1:31 am.**

"This is totally the worst," grumbled Beast Boy as he slugged through the street unhappily. He kicked a rock and it skittered along the ground. The group was walking home, but it was obvious that the whole thing with Robin put a heavy damper on their spirits. Neither Raven nor Starfire took to flying at the moment.

"I hear ya, BB," said Cyborg, his voice sounding tired. "I wish we could've rescued him sooner. I still think he's been brainwashed."

"Although," started Beast Boy, a boyish smirk lifting his face. "I still think it's a riot that Slade would _spank_ him. I mean, that's gotta be the most humiliating thing ever."

Cyborg bit back a bitter, snorting laugh and just tried to nod only.

"Oh, did you ever think Robin would have such _baby_ blue eyes?" continued Beast Boy, giggling slightly. "Picture was nothin`. Not the eyes you'd think from our intense, strong leader, huh? Who could've imagined Robin's eyes were like those straight out of an Anime."

Raven actually coughed.

"That's all great and funny," said Cyborg with a hint of bitterness; the smile that had flashed across his face quickly fading. "But I still think this is crap. I just don't understand how he could've gotten to that point of _defending_ Slade. Plus he's _staying_ there."

"I know! This just isn't fair," griped Beast Boy. "How could he do this to us? Why—"

"_Enough_, you two," snapped Raven in a harsh tone. The others stopped walking and turned to face her as Raven took a deep breath, trying extremely hard to maintain her emotions.

"Leave him alone," continued Raven. "You guys couldn't tell, but he's happy. I've never felt him be so happy before. _Never_. It's weird, I know; but if we aren't willing to accept Robin's new life because _we_ don't like something or _someone_ in it, then we have to ask ourselves: were we truly his friends in the first place?"

ooOOOOOoo

**March 13th, 2009. Friday, 1:25 am.**

"Dick, are you all right?" asked Slade after a few minutes passed in silence. Once Starfire was the last to leave, Dick had sat at the table, staring at the clothed surface in absolute silence. His mind had been racing with thoughts and none of them good.

"I'm fine," answered Dick flatly, standing up suddenly. "I'm going to my room."

Dick left the kitchen without another word, not looking up at Slade. He was sure the man would make him stop. He always said that Dick was an open book and Dick did _not_ want to be read at that moment. He hurried down the hallway and closed his bedroom door behind him, leaning his head against the wood as he closed his eyes. The flood of his emotions spilled over in the form of hot tears, which streamed slowly down his face.

Well, that was that.

His friends hated him now. They could never rebuild the trust that he had torn away so easily. First the Red X incident and now this – they would never accept the fact that Slade was his adopted father. Not that Dick could blame them; it was weird even thinking that. But everything had changed. His friends would completely turn on him in time – there was no doubt about it now. Beast Boy and Cyborg refused to consider anything he had said. Starfire probably agreed with them, even though she said she'd try to understand; although, Dick wasn't fully sure – she hadn't said much during the whole event. And Raven had sent plenty of hard glares in Slade's direction to give a clear indication on how she felt about the whole matter.

Dick choked back a sob as he wrapped his arms around his chest; sliding down against the door to sit on the floor. He curled his arms around his legs and set his face into his knees. Sobs began to shake his frame as he cried there, the tears freely falling to soak into the Kevlar material of his suit.

He couldn't explain anything to his friends.

He couldn't explain anything to Slade.

He couldn't even understand anything himself. He was utterly alone, wasn't he? Had it been so wrong that he accepted Slade? Would he still have his friends? Even Bruce… It was more than apparent from them that Bruce was greatly displeased with him – even giving up hope. Would Slade rethink everything, too? Perhaps Dick made too many mistakes. Or perhaps he was just making a big deal out of nothing; but nonetheless, there was no denying the bitter loneliness that rose up in his heart.

Would he be forced to choose between his friends and Slade?

His friends had once been a safe haven for him. Bruce had once been a safe haven for him. His parents had once been a safe haven for him. He was losing the few things of stability in his life. How much more would he lose? Dick was terribly reminded of all the feelings that begged to ask, _"What have I done that made me deserve this?"_

Why?

Why couldn't everything just be all right?

Why couldn't Dick have a family? Why couldn't he have friends? Why couldn't he be safe? Why couldn't he have a mother? Why couldn't he have a father? Why couldn't he have stability? Was he not good enough? Was he just as bad as all those villains out in the world? Why did so many bad things happen when it seemed as if there had been a glimmer of light?

There had been just a shimmer of hope in Dick's life. Why did it have to be snatched away? Couldn't he have it all? Was that selfish? Did he _really_ have to choose between his friends and the man he'd accepted as his father?

Why couldn't he have both?

It wasn't his fault with all this – Dick was doing the best he could! He had been kidnapped for crying out loud. Yes, he choose to stay with the man – that was bizarre, but somehow it had turned out just fine. Slade hadn't turned out _too_ bad.

For the first time in almost eight years, he felt like he could turn to an adult; rely on him. But now he was feeling insecure. Had he made such a terrible choice? If he had chosen anyone else, would his friends have accepted it? So Slade wasn't perfect – who was? Who were they to tell him who he could have as a father? So he wanted a mercenary, assassin for a father. _So what?!_

Dick buried his face into his knees, the tears never-ending. The door opened slightly, pushing against his back. Dick's heart stopped. It was probably Slade. He was scared, nervous – he didn't know how to explain his feelings. He couldn't even understand them himself. The man would want an explanation for his mental breakdown – no doubt about it. Slade wasn't really one for waterworks, but luckily the man never scolded him for it.

The door pushed against his back again.

"Dick, move away from the door," came Slade's voice. It was calm and quiet, yet commanding. Dick scooted to the right; just enough to allow Slade to slip into the room. The door closed and Slade stood over him. Dick closed his eyes, waiting for the man to tell him to get up and explain himself.

He wasn't expecting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

But that's what it was; a gentle hand. Dick looked up to see Slade sliding down to sit on the floor next to him, his hand on Dick's left shoulder. He squeezed it lightly. This only caused another wave of tears to flow down Dick's face and he rested his chin on his knees; tightening his arms around his legs.

So, that's why he chose Slade. There were quite a few times when he offered such fatherly moments. Even if it was just a gentle squeeze on the shoulder; it meant everything to Dick – like he had done after Dick's most recent panic attack; standing over him with that supporting hand. It strengthened him. It calmed him. The tears still came, but the sobs began to subside. After a moment, Slade's hand slid behind Dick's back to rest on his other shoulder; squeezing it tenderly.

A half hug.

That's what it was. The man had actually reached out to give him a half hug. Dick let out a shuddering gasp as he leaned his body against Slade's; his head at the base of the man's shoulder. He felt the man stiffen for a brief moment; but Dick ignored it as he nudged closer to him, thankful for the soft moment. But it was soon that Slade's hand tightened its hold on him and pulled him close. Such a soft moment was rare, but they were increasing and Dick knew they existed; and they existed when he needed them the most. Bruce hadn't known how to give such moments. Dick had understood that much and had accepted it, but he had missed it from his parents.

Oh, how he had missed such moments.

"Dick, you want to tell me what's going on?" asked Slade. Dick shook his head slightly, burying his face into the man's warm flesh and breathing in deeply. It was nice to be held. He loved it; craved it.

"Not really…"

"Why are you crying?"

Dick let out a shuddering sigh. "They hate me now."

"Ah. I think you mean, they hate _me_."

"Well, that's a given," said Dick, sniffling. Slade chuckled deeply; Dick could feel the tremors flow into his body from the close contact. He loved it. It calmed him even further. His tongue began to loosen as he felt at ease. "It… It made me wonder…" Dick hesitated, going quiet for a few moments.

"Wonder?" prodded Slade, after Dick stayed silent without continuing. Dick bit his lower lip; turning his head to look up at the ceiling.

"I… I had to wonder. Did I make a mistake?" murmured Dick.

"A mistake… Meaning me?"

Dick nodded slightly. "But…" he murmured in a terribly soft whisper. "When you came in here… and–and you…" Dick trailed off, unable to word his feelings over the strong arm that was wrapped around his shoulders and was giving him strength. Instead, he continued powerfully, "I knew then. I knew I had made the right choice. If this is a mistake, then it's the best mistake I've ever made and I don't want to correct it."

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Eight: Changes and Adjustments – Slade does some deep thinking and reaches an important decision; making the greatest adjustment of all.

**Author's Notes:** I have yet another interesting story – That panic attack wasn't originally there first time around. But all of the sudden, _late last night_ while trying to edit this dang thing, this 2500 words popped out for that panic attack. I was literally like, "*face palm* I'm not even done with the real editing!" I nearly had a panic attack (not) thinking about not making it today.

Anyways, so, there were three reason for integrating corporal punishment into this story. (Haha, yes, there really was a purpose behind the madness)

The first was to get Slade to stop beating on Dick – some might enjoy that type of torture, but I personally dislike that when it's too much – I feel bad for Dickie *puppy eyes* The second was to bring about trust between them and flourish the father and son relationship – this was the biggest reason, obviously. And the third was _specifically_ for this chapter – especially Starfire's line. I swear to me, that is the funniest line in the entire novel.

Well, you gotta love how I foreshadowed this moment in that very first chapter that Slade changed with Dick – chapter 19. XD Oh yes, I did. :P

Now… I CAN'T WAIT TIL MONDAY! *spazzes happily* It's the finality week! I can't believe it's here. GEEZ, this summer has sped by so fast. I can't believe I've been doing this since April. Wow.

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Monday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	48. Changes and Adjustments

**Author's Note:** *squeals excitedly* Oh my gosh! It's the grand finality week! Every day this week, Monday – Friday, will have updates. I can't believe it's the final week. It's stunning. Thanks to each and every one of you who have read this story, who have enjoyed it, who have reviewed and said your thoughts, who have favorited it, who have followed it – _thank you so much!_

(I have to squeal so I don't start tearing up here.)

Now for the final culmination of the plot. This is the blue moon day. The adoption was the first and this is the final. All throughout this week, the final threads will be tied together in what will be – _hopefully_ – an unforgettable tale between these two. :3

Actually, Raven did ask why did Dick run away from them. But Dick never answered the question - couldn't really answer - not to mention he got his panic attack afterwards. Hope that helps!

And honestly, I totally think Slade can dominate a fight against the Titans if he chose to do so. He's enhanced, quite a bit. I think TT Slade obviously couldn't. This Slade is definitely quite different than that monologuer. XD

*tugs at the collar of her shirt* Well, it seems that the consensus is in complete agreement with a sequel. I best make sure there is one to avoid any _'unpleasantries'_ for myself. LOL. Oh, and I suppose telling you the title of the sequel is okay. ^^ It'll be called _Into the Depths_. Heh, the speculations of what the content will be in the sequel will be most interesting. Speculate away, because it might actually give me good ideas. XD LOL

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

**Changes and Adjustments**

**March 13th, 2009. Friday, 6:43 am.**

The wind blew through Slade's pure white hair as he stood on the rooftop of the haunt, which looked over the bay of Jump City. The horizon over the ocean was beginning to lighten as the morning began to rise behind him. The azure rich blue blanketed the sky, melding with the ocean line.

Slade was pensive; thoroughly deep in thought as he remembered the most recent event. He had been quite shocked to see the Teen Titans bursting into his haunt, but what had surprised him even more was that Dick had been running _away_ from them.

Slade couldn't understand it. Yes, he knew that the two of them had reached a point beyond anything he could've imagined. Sometimes, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He had actually _adopted_ the Boy Wonder, thus making the boy his son and in turn, Slade his father – and that very same boy had _gladly_ accepted it. In fact, he had signed the papers so fast that it had made Slade's head spin.

They had come such a long way.

But Slade hadn't fully realized it until the boy came running back; fleeing from his _friends_ to find solace in Slade. It was unimaginable, but it had happened. And Dick wasn't brainwashed at all. It was of his own free will and choice. Slade could take no credit for that.

And when the boy took off his mask, Slade had seen his answers. Those crystal blue eyes, that were so dazzling in color, were swarming with fear and shame. Perhaps even a little hope – hope that Slade would read his eyes and understand what words could not speak out loud. That was how much trust Dick had placed in Slade; how much he trusted him fully and completely with all his heart.

Once again, Slade found himself very sobered by that.

He had spent an hour sitting on the floor next to the boy. Dick seemed to have melted completely when Slade had extended his arm around him; instantly turning to him for comfort. The boy had gone silent for a long while, until Slade noticed that he'd fallen asleep; his chest rising and settling slowly as he stayed curled up at Slade's side.

What Slade saw there was a little child dressed up in a grownup suit.

It was more than apparent to Slade that Dick needed a father more than anything in the world – more than friends, more than hero work, more than life itself.

And he had chosen Slade for that role.

Why he had, Slade couldn't even begin to imagine. Slade doubted that any other child would've grown this close to him – no, Dick was unique; special beyond anything Slade had ever encountered.

Dick was a child – a child who longed for someone to protect him, for someone who would guide him, for someone who would love him, for someone who would do everything in their power to care for him.

But Dick would never truly admit it. The boy would still try to put on that suit and act like an adult. He'd still try to act like he was a grownup in a child's body – no doubt about that. It had been trained into the boy for far too long, due to the absence of his parents and the training he'd received under that bat. The boy had to act like he'd grown up, so that he'd didn't need to rely on something that wasn't there and that perhaps he believed would never be there.

But that didn't change the fact that Dick truly needed guidance in the normal ways of life. Despite having a high school degree at such a young age, he still needed someone to push him along in the right direction. He still needed someone to hold him when he felt pain; he still needed the comfort that only a father could bring him. He was young and impressionable. No matter what, he needed the influence that a proper father could give him.

And so, Slade's thoughts had been completely overrun with what he should do with the boy. He had been careful not to wake him as he lifted the boy in his arms to place in his bed. Slade had decided not to remove his suit as to not wake the boy, but he did remove the armor.

There had been a quiet moment where Slade had gazed down at the sleeping profile, carding fingers through his raven black hair, of the young child he'd stolen away to be his apprentice. However, that boy no longer appeared as such. Everything had changed. Slade no longer viewed this boy like that.

This gentle, strong, kind, sensitive, special child was his son. Slade completely viewed this boy as his own, as if he had sired the child himself.

The wind gently ruffled through Slade's hair again, the salty air of the sea wafting through his senses.

He was coming to a deep conclusion and he found himself wishing it was one he had come to a little sooner in life. If perhaps he had reached this point before the decimation of his family, then maybe he'd still be the father of his first three children.

But now he was the father of one and that one seemed to need him more than anything Slade could've ever imagined – even more than his first three children combined. He wasn't sure what it was, but his heart had completely changed since first bringing Dick into his haunt. What had caused the change? When had that change occurred? Was it one exact event that brought Slade to this point?

What could have caused Slade, an immortal incapable of change, to feel the very segments of his soul realigning and adjusting for the boy?

Had it just been the simple daily things, building on top of each other; culminating into one whole big picture? The more Slade thought about it, the more he realized his mistake in the past.

Yes, he had been a decent father. He had been involved in their lives. But there were times when he just wasn't around, due to his contracts. He missed things, many times, in their daily lives. He hadn't spent the normal amount of time a father should have; coming home every night to be with his family. He never was home all day, every day. He never spent every waking hour in their presence.

But that's how it had been these past months.

In the effort to train and mold the boy, Slade had spent every waking minute with him. He had given the boy free time; but as time moved on, Dick many times choose to spend it with Slade. During all this time, Slade got to learn every tiny detail of the boy's personality and quirks.

Little things, like the way the light brightened his eyes when he was learning something he was interested in; or the way his eyes flittered back and forth when he was up to something mischievous; or when pain entered those startling eyes that they glimmered like pure gemstones – Slade could keep going on. He knew _everything_.

In reality, he knew little about his biological children.

He had trained Grant in the hopes that his son would one day become his partner, but not like the way he had been training Dick. He had given Grant many independent studies and his son had flourished best that way. Grant had enjoyed learning martial arts very much and most of his lessons had come from a local dojo. But Slade had given his son personal lessons and found that he had quite a bit in common with his eldest.

And Joey; well, Slade actually knew little about his second son. They had been decently close, but Slade hadn't understood the boy's love for art and music. But he had supported Joey in his love and Slade had very much appreciated his son's beautiful voice. That was one of the few things in life that could tear Slade's heart out – the knowledge of that voice being ripped away forever.

Rose… She had been too young for Slade to see all the little things. She had spitfire, like Wintergreen enjoyed saying. And she had been impossibly intelligent for being so young; highly interested in science and the like. She had the kindest smile and the brightest eyes. She loved living things so much and she had always hated it when Grant and Slade went hunting.

Slade found himself wishing that if he could do over that time period again, he would devote every waking moment he could to spending time with those three children. But fate had dealt him a hard hand in the consequences of his choices.

Somehow, Slade didn't want to make the same mistake twice. He could fully admit it to himself: he cared about Dick – _very much so_. Desires that Slade had once had were slowly fading into the void as now the desire of ensuring Dick's happiness slid into place. It was his focus now; his resolve. He had taken the boy in – well, he _had _stolen him, but that was beside the point – and now it was his _job_, his _responsibility_ to raise him.

He had done a poor job the first round – he fully understood that. Somehow, Slade felt he finally had the ability to change something. Now Slade was prepared to adjust himself so that he would not fail this time around. After all, he hated to fail just as much as he hated to lose – and losing that child _was not_ an option, neither failing him.

So, that was that. He now fully had his resolve.

Slade was going to be a proper father.

The breeze descended in a trilling flutter, gently enveloping him in its soft caress. A pleased sensation flowed over Slade's entire soul; coupled with the greatest sense of peace that Slade had ever experienced in his entire life. The acceptance of his sudden culminating decision brought an overpowering feeling of fulfillment; something he hadn't felt in years, if at all in his life. He had to take a deep breath of fresh air to clear his mind. It was completely intoxicating; the feeling.

It almost gave him chills.

He had always felt a void in his life. It lessened greatly when he spent time with his family, but he had never made the connection. He always felt the need to do more; challenge himself more. When the army no longer allowed him back in the ranks, he had felt the void widen further. That was when he created Deathstroke the Terminator, the mercenary and assassin that all would tremble and fear in the presence of.

But even then, he still felt the void.

It only lessened when he had been with his family. But he had ignored it; fulfilling more and more contracts with his time; thinking this was his destiny and fulfillment in life. That is, until his enemies decided to enact their revenge against him, thus tearing apart his family.

When he first saw Robin fighting alongside Batman, he had been greatly intrigued by the boy; almost drawn to the boy's uniqueness. And so, Slade found himself studying him more and more. It was when the boy had branched out on his own that Slade found him thoroughly enticing. The boy had a lot of potential, yet it was being wasted. Slade had decided that he would take that boy to be his apprentice, but he had been swamped with contracts to do anything quite yet at the time.

And when the boy founded the Teen Titans, Slade decided that he'd play a little game with him to see what the boy was made of. Slade definitely learned quite a few things about him, but it was nothing compared to the things he had learned during the past months. Being so close to him truly brought the boy into a whole new light.

A light that seemed to illuminate the four corners within Slade's mind, dissolving the shadows.

Well, now Slade had to make another decision. What was he going to do in his spare time when he wasn't dealing with his son?

"I always find this view breathtaking, don't you agree?"

Slade turned to look at Wintergreen as he walked up to stand beside him. Slade nodded and looked back at the horizon that now was beginning to lighten with amber orange and tints of violet from the oncoming sunrise in the east.

"You seem very deep in thought," murmured Wintergreen, the shadows within his aged eyes flickering. "Have any to share?"

Slade smiled lightly as he leaned against the rail; his arms folded over. The salty morning breeze wafted through his nose as he breathed deeply. The peace in his heart overflowed once again.

"I was thinking about what I'm going to do next," said Slade in a soft undertone.

"Oh?"

"And I've decided that I'm going to let him go," said Slade; his voice tender as a small smile graced his lips. Wintergreen's expression turned dark as he raised an eyebrow.

"I hope that was a joke."

"It wasn't."

"Slade, that'd be the cruelest thing yet that you could do to that child," said Wintergreen sharply; his hazel green eyes flashing dangerously. "I'd rather you beat him up. That would _break_ him. You can't just adopt him and then kick him out on his rear like that. That would completely destroy him."

There was a light chuckle.

"I think you're misunderstanding," said Slade, still chuckling softly. "I meant that I'm going to let him go as my apprentice. If he wants to be a hero, I won't stop him. If he wants to train, I'll still teach him. I'll teach him everything I know, but I won't force him to be my apprentice. To be honest, I think I'm doomed to never have one."

Wintergreen looked momentarily surprised by this, but then he gently smiled.

"What made you come to this decision?" asked Wintergreen.

"That mission that we went on together," said Slade, gazing out over the rail to look at the soft waves of the sea. "It was then that I fully realized there were just some things Dick would not become – and a killer was one of them. He mourned the death of his _enemies_, Will – the very enemies who would've killed him in a blink of an eye and thought nothing of it. He knew that and yet, he still mourned them."

"He is a very special child."

"Yes, I agree," said Slade, turning around to smile at Wintergreen. He leaned his elbows against the railing, his smile lifting his features even more. "And one I intend to raise – _full time_."

Wintergreen blinked at Slade, his aged eyes widening as his mouth slowly opened.

"You're serious about this."

"I am."

"What about your work?" asked Wintergreen.

"I think I'll retire," said Slade, his tone a playful philosophical one. Then, he let a shrug lift his shoulders. "For the time being, anyways." There was a wry smirk that lifted his face as he continued, "It's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon at any rate. I have all the time in the world to take a breather period. Watching him grow up will pass in the blink of an eye. I know that all too well."

It was too precious of a time to miss.

Wintergreen's wrinkled face broke out into a far spreading smile. It had been a long time since Slade had seen the old man look so happy. Wintergreen clasped Slade on the shoulder and gave him a hard affectionate, shaky squeeze.

"_You love him_," whispered Wintergreen, sounding choked up; his aged eyes glistening slightly. Slade almost startled at that. He could fully admit that he cared about the boy, but to say that he loved him? Well, that was a bit more to digest, wasn't it? Slade could only swallow and turn his glance away; looking straight ahead at the city skyline. The eastern horizon was becoming bright with hues of orange and violet as the sun began to peek over the line.

Love indeed.

Oh, had that boy truly wormed his way into Slade's heart _that_ much? Slade couldn't help but sigh.

It appeared so.

As Slade watched the rising sun against the horizon, his chest constricted slightly. He hated admitting to himself his mistakes. He'd rather proclaim that he was completely flawless, but there was no doubt of the mistakes in his life – the largest being the choices that led to the destruction of his family.

It was then he felt a sudden need. It was such a strange feeling, thinking along those lines after all these years. But somehow, he needed closure. It was as if the wounds caused by his mistakes had never healed, but merely continued to bleed out. However, it wasn't as if this decision would heal such a wound, but for some reason he needed to do it.

Although, he doubted if she'd answer his call.

Slade turned away from the sunrise and looked back at Wintergreen; giving his old friend a soft smile.

"There's something I need to do," said Slade. "I'll be back in a bit."

Wintergreen gave him a lift of his eyebrow as Slade began to walk past him towards the door of the roof.

"What are you going to do?" asked Wintergreen. Slade stopped for a moment, his hand on the handle of the door. There was another gentle breeze that fluttered by. He turned slightly to look back at the old man.

"Something I should've done years ago."

"Oh?"

"I'm going to say two words to the woman I love."

Wintergreen looked a little startled by that. "Oh…?"

"I'm going to say: _'I'm sorry'_."

And with that, Slade opened the door and walked through it; shutting it softly behind him. Wintergreen merely smiled at the closed door as a breeze of salty ocean wind fluttered past him in its trilling, contented waves.

ooOOOOOoo

**March 13th, 2009. Friday, 11:22 am.**

Dick fidgeted in the chair that he was sitting on; waiting in the kitchen. This waiting was painful – _completely_ painful. He wasn't sure if he had done anything wrong, but when Slade had said he wanted to talk to him, Dick couldn't help but feel anxious. Especially when the man had that tired, serious look in his eye; Dick couldn't help but fidget in worried anticipation.

What did the man want to talk about? Had Dick done something he shouldn't have?

With what had happened last night, Dick wasn't sure when to bring up the topic about Rose and Joey. He was sure that Slade would be happy about them wanting to visit sometime, but Dick wasn't sure how to talk about it. He really didn't want to tell Slade that Rose had _attacked_ him with the intent to _kill_ him, no matter how brief it'd been. He doubted Slade would appreciate that, even if Rose was his daughter.

Not to mention the Titans had burst into the haunt like a rampaging train. The 'front door' was still in need of repairs at that moment. Was Slade going to talk about his leading the Titans here? He seriously hadn't meant to, it just sort of happened. Was he in trouble over that? Dick swallowed nervously, his seat wiggling slightly. He was suddenly thankful that Slade hadn't decided to punish him last night, _in front of his friends_. Them laughing over the concept was bad enough without them getting a front row seat to a show.

He fidgeted in his seat more; thoroughly worrying now about what the man was going to talk about and what he might _do_.

Finally, Slade walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. Dick found himself straightening in his chair as he watched Slade sit down in the chair next to him. The man leaned an elbow onto the table and rested his face in his hand. He suddenly looked very old and tired; something Dick had never seen before. It completely unsettled him. There was something unusual going on with the man. Dick wasn't sure what it was, but somehow he was getting even more anxious.

"Sir? Is there something wrong?" asked Dick before the man could begin talking. Slade looked up from his hand to gaze at him; slight surprise filling his face.

"No, what gave you that idea?"

"You just look… really tired," supplied Dick, trying not to look as nervous and worried as he felt. Slade sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand and nodded lightly.

"I might be; just a bit," said Slade, still sounding somewhat weary. After a moment longer, he adjusted himself in his chair to face Dick more. Somehow, Dick was overwhelmed with the feeling that the man had something extremely important to say and was burdened by it or something. He got even more nervous.

"Dick, I wanted to talk to you," began Slade, seeming to emanate uncertainty. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand again. Then, he grabbed the edges of his chair and scooted it to be positioned in front of Dick. Their knees collided lightly. Dick couldn't help but tense at this sudden seriousness.

"O–okay," said Dick, feeling even more anxious; beginning to tremble slightly. This didn't really feel like a lecture before a… punishment. Did someone die or something? But Slade wasn't really the type to build something up like this.

There was another low sigh, more tired this time. Slade leaned forward and clasped the sides of Dick's thighs, staring directly into his eyes. Dick swallowed again and bit the interior of his lower lip; his eyes wide with anxiousness as he stared into the man's serious grey blue eye.

"Dick, I am going to let you go as my apprentice."

The cavity inside Dick's chest seemed to collapse. His breathing quickened. He seriously tried not to get more anxious, but that sounded very much like Slade didn't need him anymore. Hadn't the man reassured him before that he still needed Dick? Then, why, _why_ was the man going back on his word?

"I no longer have any need for an apprentice," continued Slade, his tone soft and reverent.

Dick's heart dropped. Then, it constricted horribly; squeezing inside his chest so hard that he thought he was going to pass out. It felt as if his breathing had completely stopped. This was really and seriously sounding as if the man was going to abandon him. Was it something he had done? Maybe Dick shouldn't have hugged him so much… Was the man mad about that? What if he was angry about the Titans busting in? What if—

Dick bolted to his feet, trying to gasp for breath; the chair scrapping against the floor from his sudden movement. He couldn't breathe – it was too hard to breathe. Finally, once air could fill his lungs, words were formed.

"I thought—I thought you needed me—I—"

"Dick, calm down. It's not—"

"_No!_" shouted Dick indignantly; his chest hurting even more. He shouldn't have signed those papers. Now that the man had him in his complete grasp, he was done with Dick. Maybe he was bored with him or maybe Dick wasn't living up to the man's expectations. All those words before; were they really just words? Did Slade like playing this game?

Dick knew he had put trust into this man and he never really wanted to be his apprentice, but this sounded all too horrible to Dick's mind at that moment. What happened to all that _'You're unique. You're special.'_ stuff that the man had told him before? If he was all that, then why wouldn't Slade still be trying to make him his apprentice?

"What the heck are you doing to me?" cried Dick, trying extremely hard not to break down into tears – the burning in his eyes was telling him that it was fast approaching. "What do you want from me? I seriously thought—is this a _game_ to you, Slade? Do you _like_ messing with my mind?"

"Dick, that isn't it at all—"

"_Just stop this already!_" cried Dick, not caring that he was interrupting the man. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you abandoning me now? Why couldn't you have done it earlier?! Before I—"

"I am _not_ abandoning you—"

"Then, what are you doing! _Why are you doing this to me?!_" shouted Dick, a tear slipping down his cheek without his permission.

_Why is everyone doing this to me?!_

First his parents; second Bruce; third the Titans; and now Slade. Didn't he deserve _someone_ in his life? Why couldn't he just hold onto _one!_ It had to be Dick; there was something wrong with him, wasn't there? Something that kept making him lose the people who were important to him. He should just disappear, leave, maybe. Then, no one could get close to him; then, no one would feel the need to abandon him.

No wonder Rose's heart had turned dark.

Slade took a deep breath and shot a chilling glare at Dick that shut him up temporarily. The man squared his shoulders, before he bellowed at the top of his voice; his words reverberating throughout the room, "_Because Slade Wilson has no business being Deathstroke the Terminator when he has a fourteen year old son to raise!_"

Dick opened his mouth in surprise; the words ringing in his ears. His breathing suddenly collapsed once as it regulated instantly. He blinked a few times as he stared down at the man.

"What…?"

Slade sighed again; shaking his head lightly.

"Dick, I have been _trying_ to tell you," started Slade, sounding even more worn out then before. "That I won't need an apprentice anymore _simply_ because my new profession will take up all my time."

"Your… Your new profession?"

"Yes, I've found that my services as a father are a bit more in demand at this time," said Slade; his face lit with a wry smile.

"…_what?_"

"I won't have time to be a mercenary while raising you, Dick," said Slade; a wave of softness flowing over the man's features. "I'll be devoting all my time to _you_."

"You're—you're giving up your occupation for _me?_" breathed Dick, his eyes wide with shock.

"Well," started Slade, obviously trying to sound dismissive, but not quite achieving it. "More like a temporary retirement. I think my time will be too filled with raising and handling a _precocious_ child that desperately needs to be _kept in line_."

Dick was in too much shock to really register anything.

"So, in effect, Deathstroke the Terminator is no more," said Slade, his face lifting in a soft smile.

Dick reeled. His body wasn't listening to him – losing all strength to keep standing. He was falling backwards from the shock. It was too much. He never imagined that Slade would give everything up like this. He had only hoped that the man would let him be a hero. He _never_ dreamed that Slade would give up being a mercenary for him. _This_ was crazy. This _had_ to be a dream.

A strong hand caught his wrist.

"Good grief, boy. I knew I could make the ladies swoon, but this is a bit much," said Slade wryly; his grey blue eye twinkling with mischief. Dick could only stare at Slade, supported only by that strong hand of the man who was smirking at him.

"_You're giving it up for me?_" breathed Dick in a whisper, his eyes wide.

"I am."

Everything slowed down, it seemed. Slade pulled Dick's arm so that he was jerked forward. It felt like a dream; a lingering, beautiful unimaginable dream. Time itself felt stalled as Dick fell forward straight into Slade's firm chest. Strong arms wrapped around Dick's back as he was pulled even more into an all powerful embrace.

"All my power, all my knowledge," murmured Slade in Dick's ear; his warm breath brushing against his skin. "All for you."

The warmth was encapsulating. Dick could feel the man's powerful, strong arms wrapped around him. They were so secure, so safe, so gentle, so powerful. This was different. This was completely different from the three times Dick had hugged the man. This was different from that moment the man had wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

This was a father's embrace.

Tears began to well up as his ever widening eyes grew tired from not blinking. Dick's arms slid around Slade's chest and held onto the man tighter than his soul possessed – holding onto the man for dear life, like a lifeline that brought the greatest of rescues. His grip tightened on the immaculate shirt as he buried his face into the man's lower shoulder. He could smell the rich, sharp scent of the man's rustic, musky cologne as he breathed in deeply. It was different from John Grayson's scent. But Dick still loved it. It reiterated Slade's unique power and Dick could feel it permeate through him, wafting over him in its protection.

"I just had no idea it would turn out like this," said Slade, sounding slightly amused by the whole thing, yet there was a low, tenderness to his smooth voice that suggested he was choking up himself. Dick loved how his voice tickled against his skin. He loved every moment of this. It had been so long since he had felt something like this. And it was at that moment, he didn't mind his size so much – all the more to be completely enveloped in the protecting embrace.

Dick closed his eyes, sending a wave of tears down his cheeks; taking in another deep breath – breathing in every delight and warmth from the softest, kindest, most important moment he had experienced in nearly eight years.

Dick knew then that he truly had a father again – an adult—_a father_ all for himself that would protect him, that would care for him, that would hold him, that would comfort him, that would teach him, that would correct him, that would raise him, that would _love_ him; everything within this man's power, he would do to fulfill all that. Those powerfully strong, yet gentle arms were telling Dick exactly that.

But one thing did still trouble him.

Even if Dick wasn't going to be the man's apprentice, that certainly didn't mean that Slade didn't want him to become a mercenary, right? If Dick refused to be a mercenary, would Slade still keep him as a son? Well, that was certainly silly thinking, considering those arms that were still tightly surrounding him. But no matter what Slade could teach him, Dick knew with all his heart that he would never _ever_ kill another human being. And even if he wanted to, he was pretty sure his mother would stop him again like she did before.

But Dick still wanted to learn from the man. He had grown to respect him and fully understood that Slade had gathered a lot of wisdom in his life. The man certainly had a lot of worthy knowledge to offer and Dick was very willing to learn from him. But Dick knew – knew all too well that his heart wasn't going to change. He didn't believe that stealing or killing was right. He still really wanted to be a crime fighter. Dick enjoyed it – _loved_ it – a lot. It definitely gave him a sense of satisfaction in his life.

Yeah, he missed the normalcy that he could have, but a part of him still wanted to be the spiky haired, daring leader of the Teen Titans. Although, he was afraid that he was losing his friends. He was sure that he had lost Bruce. Those words that Cyborg had related to him were still tearing him apart inside. Bruce had not only given up hope on him, but he must also be thoroughly furious with Dick for getting adopted by a high profile criminal.

But, in all honesty, the only thing that mattered the most to Dick at that very moment was Slade's approval. Losing that was just something Dick couldn't handle.

"Does this mean…" began Dick in a low murmur against Slade's shoulder. "I don't have to be a mercenary? You won't train me to be a criminal?"

Slade grasped the side of Dick's arms and began to pull him out of the hug. Dick tried not to whimper. He really didn't want the embrace to end, and so he reluctantly let go. He was also very afraid of the man's answer. Slade held him tightly by the arms, yet gently as he looked at Dick directly in the eye.

"_No_. You do not have to be a mercenary. _In fact_—" Slade's grey blue eye took on a frightening glint that sent a chill down Dick's back. "If you _ever_ become a mercenary, _ever_ follow in my footsteps, I'll wallop your backside every night for the _rest of your life_."

Dick's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at that.

"Wha—what? But–but I thought—"

"You're just not cut out for it, after all," said Slade with a knowing smirk, yet there was a soft light in his eye; as if he knew something that Dick didn't. "You should go with a profession that you're well suited for. Perhaps… something along the lines of being the leader of the Teen Titans?"

Dick blinked, his breath catching in chest.

"_Are you serious?_" cried Dick, completely floored.

"Deadly."

Dick pushed himself back into the man's chest. It was all too much – his tears followed quickly as his arms wrapped around Slade's chest again. He silently cried into the man's shoulder. Those powerful, strong arms once again enveloped him. To be held was one of those things that Dick loved beyond anything in this world; and at the moment, he was happier than he had been in a long, _long_ time. How incomprehensible it was to think that Slade, of all people, would bring that happiness to his heart.

He didn't have to be a mercenary. He didn't have to be a thief or a killer or a criminal. He got to be a hero. He got to have a father. Slade would still want him if he wasn't those things. Slade wasn't going to force him to do those things. _In fact_, it was extremely apparent that the man would make _very_ sure that Dick wouldn't go off the deep end.

Just like a parent.

_Just like a father_.

A hand gently and soothingly rubbed against his back. This only made Dick bury his face deeper into the man's firm flesh – if that was even possible. This man was someone beyond important to him. How that came to be was completely mind boggling, but it had happened. And Dick was thankful that it had; _oh, how thankful_. He wanted to please this man, no matter what. He'd be the best he could be. He wanted to make him proud.

Oh, how he wanted to make him proud.

Fate was such an interesting creature. Why, of all of the opposites in the world, would it bring together the Hero and the Villain? However, that wasn't all the two of them were. Now they were son and father – father and son; thus, a _family_.

What a rarity.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Forty-Nine: Titans Together – Dick finally returns to the Titans Tower after seven months and gives the Teen Titans some very interesting news. Will the Teen Titans be able to reconcile? Or will his friend still begrudge Dick?

**Author's Notes:** Aheh… Hehehe… *breaks out laughing*

*Then, fangirls like nuts*

SO, I will admit. Every time I read a review that said that they weren't sure if they wanted Dickie to leave or would Dickie escape and the like, I seriously giggled madly. How could I not? Now, correct me if I'm wrong – _none_ of you were expecting _that_ from Slade, now were you? Some of you were probably just expecting Slade to let Dick go. Never expected _retirement_, hm? But how could you? It's just not done! _Heaven forbid_ the _Villain_ changing his ways. It's always the Hero that either becomes the villain or escapes.

_Has nobody seen Despicable Me?!_

Granted, when I first thought of this story, I hadn't remembered that movie either. And of course, Slade is way, _way_ different than that villain. But I seriously saw something in Slade that was always overlooked (except one!). Nobody really has given Slade the second chance he totally deserves. I read so many apprentice stories and was always disappointed. How I longed for something more from this man who was so amazingly complex, who had so much remarkable potential. Well, since I couldn't find it, I wrote it. TOOK ME FORTY-SEVEN CHAPTERS TO MAKE IT BELIEVABLE! *shot* But I must say, it was well worth it, don't you think? A Slade like no other came into being because of it.

And besides, the man _is_ immortal. Who's to say that he has to spend _all_ eternity doing the _same_ thing. Gotta shake things up!

Interestingly enough, I honestly don't think this story ever was an 'official' Apprentice story, least on the underbelly there. ^_^ I _told_ you dear readers that this was an unconventional Robin/Slade story! Should've believed me! :3

Oh, that hug. I love it with all my heart and I've been dying to draw it for weeks. Need a proper reference though. :/ *can't draw without `em*

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Tuesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	49. Titans Together

**Author's Note:** You guys are awesome. `Nough said. *nods wisely*

Wintergreen's age was said in chapter 3, but that was ages ago and even _I_ had to go reference it; but it said there that he was in his late 60s. One thing I can say is _FB_'s Wintergreen won't die. ^^ That delightful old man will around for quite awhile, even to see the next generation, I bet. *winks*

Oh, yes. I has plans for da bat. You'll have to wait, though. *smiles* You'll also have to wait for the topic of Rose and Joey tomorrow. ^^; With these two chapters, it just never seemed like the time for Dickie to talk about it. It always seemed to break the flow of the chapters.

Haha, yeah. I find it weird whenever I hear hardened language from the Titans. I mean, I'd totally hear them going, "What the heck?" Or the like, you know. But never real profanity. Although, I can totally hear Slade having some choice words sometimes. I dunno, he's a military man. I bet he's heard some colorful language in his time. But since I don't like writing language, I preferred to keep his language to a different style. And if he does swear, you have to use your imagination for it. LOL.

For all you know, he could've said, "Squawking feather duckers!"

…

I think I'd pay good money to hear Slade say that…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

**Titans Together**

**March 16th, 2009. Monday, 11:00 am.**

"Sure you don't want me to come along?" asked Slade in his sly, teasing tone. Dick rolled his eyes as he jumped down from the plank of the large boat. His feet touched soil and he was blasted with a wave of nostalgia. He took a deep breath; smelling the salty air of the bay.

"Naw, I'm good," said Dick softly. He put on a smirk as he turned back to look up at Slade. "Sides, it's not like you're quite welcome yet. You might ruin everything."

"My, you sure know how to make a man feel welcome," drawled Slade with a smirk. Dick only smiled. It was nice to see the man without his mask on outside of the haunt – or really their house; their _home_. And the man was never going to wear it again – or at least not while Dick was still living. No, Slade was just a man now – a man who was the father of the Boy Wonder.

"Maybe next time," said Dick with a genuine smile. "Maybe you can help Cyborg beef up the security sometime. Especially since you're able to pass it."

"I'm able to get through _any_ security," smirked Slade with a dark, suggestive light in his eye.

"Yeah, but you won't, right?" asked Dick with a raised eyebrow. Slade chuckled, shaking his head.

"Do you doubt my word? I told you before: Deathstroke the Terminator is no more."

"Yeah, but you weren't Deathstroke to the Teen Titans," argued Dick with a pointed grin. "You were _Slade_."

"Still am," smirked Slade with a double lift of his eyebrows.

"Slade—"

"Go on now. Quit stalling."

Dick opened his mouth slightly, taken aback. He stared up in surprise at the man that was evenly staring down at him with a soft, knowing expression.

"I'm not _stalling_," protested Dick.

"Really? Could've fooled me."

Dick turned his head away; biting his lip nervously. How did Slade seem to know _everything?_ So what if he was stalling? He was getting more and more anxious by the second. He really didn't want the Titans to be angry with him. He really hoped they would still be his friends after all this.

But he still couldn't help but worry – especially after their attitudes from before.

"Go on, I'll stick around in the bay. I won't be far," said Slade, nodding his head once in the direction to the Tower. Dick felt his face flush and he set a soft glare onto Slade.

"I don't need you to _stick around_," snapped Dick, the heat creeping upwards to his ears. "I can take care of myself, _thank you very much_."

"I think I'll go fishing…" said Slade vaguely, turning his gaze out over the bay. "Nice day. Fish might be biting. This seems like a good spot. Seems like a nice day to have fish for dinner."

"Slade!"

Slade amiably tilted his head towards Dick, his features completely lifted in a knowing, wry smirk; yet there was a gentle light in his eye. Dick whirled around, trying very hard not to blush anymore. A part of him didn't like being treated like a little kid, but the child inside of him was actually really thankful. If he admitted it, he just _might_ be feeling a little clingy to the man now. But this was a whole new experience for him and there were times he felt a little insecure; sometimes wondering if this whole thing was just a blissful dream.

And besides, he could be as clingy as he wanted to be. There was nothing wrong with that, especially since he hadn't had a father in almost eight years.

It was nice to have one looking out for him, _finally_.

"Thanks," murmured Dick, before continuing along the pathway upward towards the enormous tower. As he walked along the path, the tension in his stomach began to squirm and flutter nervously. He had decided to face the Titans without a mask again. He hadn't been Robin in over six months. Even when going out on those two missions, he hadn't felt like Robin. No, he was Dick Grayson and that's who he wanted to face his friends. After all, it was Dick who had been adopted, not really Robin.

'_No, this is about Slade Wilson and Richard Grayson.'_

And that was fully true – the adoption had nothing to do with Slade and Robin, but _everything_ to do with Slade Wilson and Dick Grayson. Even for Slade now, the outward identities that they both had built for themselves had now fallen to the wayside for their true and far better identity.

_Father and son._

And there was no better identity than that for Dick.

Finally, Dick stood outside the large door of Titans Tower, far more nervous than he'd ever been in his entire life. This was going to be _sooo _awkward. Yup, there was no doubt about that. But he had good news – the _best_ news in the entire world.

Slade wasn't going to be a mercenary anymore. Slade wasn't going to be an assassin anymore. His _father_ wasn't going to be a criminal. It was the best and strangest thing to think that, but Dick put on a smile. It made him all the more happy in the world to be able to think that.

Dick placed his hand over the security pad. The systems scanned his hand print and the giant door opened. Setting a nervous smile on his face, he walked inside. Passing by the lines of soft arm chairs and walking up the red carpeted stairs, he swallowed nervously as he pressed the elevator button. This wasn't going to be easy. Finally, the elevator arrived and Dick waited with belly flops as it rose to the floor with the main room. He was pretty sure the belly flops weren't caused by the elevator.

As the elevator doors opened, Dick walked down the familiar corridor. He took deep calming breaths. Being in the Tower after such a long time was getting to him. There was a powerful amount of emotion rising up inside his chest; twisting and constricting his heart ever so tenderly and firmly in contrasting waves.

Maybe he should've worn the mask after all…

He reached the main room doors and it opened automatically as he got close to it. So much for calming his nerves…

"_Robin!_" cried a happy, blithe voice. A strong body suddenly collided with Dick – nearly knocking him over – and arms wrapped around him. Dick was frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden hug; but soon, with a smile, he lifted his hands and managed to return Starfire's warm and slightly crushing hug. It had been so _long_ since he had one of these. They really did make everything just a little better.

"Hey, Star," said Dick softly; feeling a small bit of heat creep into his cheeks. He allowed himself to tighten his hold around her, breathing in softly. _How he had missed her_. After a moment, Starfire pulled back and smiled at him.

"It is glorious that you have come back home," said Starfire.

"Thanks, Star," said Dick; his face flushing even more. He wasn't sure why that was happening – why the heck would he be feeling this way now? He tried to smile. The warmth in his face grew as Starfire kindly smiled back. What the heck was going on?

"Ho—how's everything going?" asked Dick, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing he could rub away the incessant warmth. He was seriously praying his cheeks weren't completely beet red.

"Everything is well, Robin," said Starfire with a bright smile. Then, her expression softened slightly. "But mostly, I am worried about you."

Dick smiled at her. It was a genuine smile, although he was pretty sure some pink crept into his cheeks.

"I'm doing great, Starfire. Really, _really_ great, actually."

Starfire's smile to this was overwhelming; sweet, soft, kind, understanding – thoroughly intoxicating and Dick found himself blushing again at her gentle beauty. He couldn't think now – completely forgetting the reason he had come to Titans Tower in the first place.

"Your letters…" whispered Starfire after a moment, her monochromatic eyes glittering once. "They came this morning."

"Oh," mouthed Dick quietly, swallowing once. "Did–did everyone read them?"

"We did." Starfire put a hand on Dick's arm, her smile gentle. Dick's skin chilled from her touch, sending fiery electric sensations through his arm. "I was never angry with you, Robin. And I am happy for you; _truly_ happy for you. I am also happy that you were completely open and honest in your letter to me."

Dick blushed and ducked his head. Oh, why was this happening now? Why were there butterflies fluttering in his stomach right now? Why did it feel like his skin was on fire just from her gentle touch? Why did it feel like he was going to melt underneath her beautiful smile? It seemed as if anything she would say could either lift his spirits or destroy him; teetering on a dangerous edge of the heart.

What the heck was going on here?!

"I can also tell that… Slade truly cares for you."

Dick's head popped up, his eyes wide in surprise by this.

"How do you know?"

"At that moment he helped you when you were… not well," said Starfire, her voice turning soft. "That was not the Slade we once fought so many times. That Slade seemed like a concerned man who cared about you very, _very_ much."

Emotion filled Dick's chest; twisting in a soft, gentle motion. He had to swallow again, his throat becoming dry. It was one thing to see it for himself, but another for others to see it as well. That meant it really was true – Slade really did care about him. There was no hiding it anymore beneath that impassive stance the man tried to hide behind so much.

Slade truly did love him, didn't he?

"Your name… Your real name is Richard?" asked Starfire, those emerald green eyes ever so soft as they gazed at him. He nodded lightly. "I heard Slade call you… Dick, though. Why is this if your name is Richard?"

"Oh, Dick's a nickname for Richard," said Dick, the heat still in his cheeks. At her confused look, he chuckled. "Not sure why, though. It's just the way it's always been for me, I guess."

"Why do you go by Robin, then?"

Those inquiring eyes were too dazzling to deny.

"My… Mama…" whispered Dick, allowing himself to call her affectionately – in front of Starfire, he was safe. "She'd always call me her little robin. I choose it in memory of her."

Starfire's hand still hadn't left his arm. As he spoke, it squeezed tenderly once.

"Koriand'r."

"Huh?"

There was a gentle laughing giggle from Starfire as her hand slid down Dick's arm and clasped his hand. Somehow, that movement sent pleasant little chills down his skin with it.

"My Tamaran name. Koriand'r means Starfire."

"Koriand'r," murmured Dick, letting the melodic sounds of Starfire's name lace over his tongue. He smiled at her. "It's pretty. It really suits you, Kori."

The smile that responded was far prettier than the rising sun in the grandest of all sunrises. Dick tried his best to formulate a proper sentence through the stunning light that seemed to emanate from that smile.

"I–I kinda wanted to talk to everyone. I've got something to tell you guys."

There was another responding smile as Starfire nodded; lifting into the air easily and flying over to the main computer; their hands disconnecting. Dick slowly walked after her, wiping his now sweaty palms against his blue jeans. He was getting more and more nervous. He was really thankful that Starfire had been the first to see him. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've gotten a bit discouraged. Thank goodness it had been Starfire, even though he felt like a complete mess of nerves for some odd reason. His heart was fluttering oddly around Starfire at that moment; the butterflies dancing around in his stomach. But he was still glad. Starfire had such a kind and forgiving heart.

"Friends, please come to the main room," said Starfire, her voice going over the sound system that ran throughout the entire tower.

Starfire turned around as Dick walked up to stand beside her. She gave him an encouraging smile and it took all of Dick's composure to return it. His mouth was going drier by the second. Starfire studied him for a moment and then her hand lifted to his face. Dick gently flinched when she touched right below an eye. She quickly withdrew her hand.

"Oh, I am sorry. It is just… different… seeing you without your mask," said Starfire, looking apologetic. "It will take time to get accustomed to this."

"Yeah, I know. I never took it off around you guys," said Dick in a low undertone. There was a pause inside his chest, before he continued. "I should've, though."

"Yes, I agree," nodded Starfire with a bright, yet reverent smile. "I have never seen such eyes before. For certain, they do not even compare to all the jewels of Centauri."

The deepest of all blushes flushed all throughout Dick's face before he could glance away and mumble a 'thanks' for the compliment. Maybe seeing Starfire first wasn't the best idea after all – his face felt like fire. Honestly, what was going on here? It was just _Starfire_.

After a few short minutes of awkward waiting, the main door slid open and Beast Boy walked in first. He blinked in surprised at the sight of Dick.

"Dude! What are you doing here? Did you escape or something?" asked Beast Boy, coming around the half circle couch to plop onto it.

"There's no need to escape my _home_, Beast Boy," said Dick with a slight raised eyebrow. "Remember, Slade _adopted_ me. So, his house is now my house."

"Oh… yeah…" said Beast Boy, his ears drooping slightly.

"Doesn't mean this isn't still my home, too," whispered Dick. Beast Boy gave him a small nod; looking a little more hopeful now. Then, a slightly sheepish look entered his face.

"Um… I got your letter."

Dick could only nod, unsure of what to say. Beast Boy seemed to feel the same, one his fangs showing through as he bit his lower lip.

"Slade really been good to you?"

Dick quickly nodded, seeing the look of Beast Boy trying to understand.

"He's been great, actually."

There was another awkward moment between them. Then, Beast Boy tilted his head slightly. The look that filled his face was one of questioning and not of teasing. Somehow, Dick got the fleeting impression that he wasn't really going to like what the changeling was going to say next.

"Does Slade really… spank you?"

Oh, there it was again: that terrible heat flooding through Dick's face. It stretched to the very tips of his ears and he glanced nervously at Starfire, who was looking over at him curiously and with a twinge of sympathy. This would've been _far_ easier if she wasn't in the room. He wasn't sure how he could pull off dismissive confidence with her standing so near. Well, at least she hadn't laughed at him, but had been concerned about it.

Dick wasn't sure if that was a good thing, actually.

"Um… yeah," said Dick, only looking at Beast Boy as his face flushed more. Then, he pulled out his strongest nonchalant manner and he shrugged dismissively. "You know, couple wallops to the backside to set me straight. The usual. Not a big deal, really. Better than getting a punch to the gut, to be honest."

"I think I rather get the punch."

"Don't knock it until it's happened to you," said Dick with a raised eyebrow, folding his arms. He noticed that the young changeling was squirming slightly on the couch. A dawning realization flooded through Dick and he smirked. "What, _you_ experience anything like that while on The Doom Patrol? I do know Mento was a pretty strict guy. Just _how_ strict _was_ he?"

Beast Boy's skin color resembled that of a Christmas tree; his green skin mixing with the deep red blush on his cheeks. Dick chuckled lightly; the smirk that was spreading throughout his features rivaling one of Slade's trademarked smirks.

"Looks like I'm not the only one around here on the receiving end of 'firm' parenting."

Beast Boy muttered something under his breath, his cheeks still brightly contrasted against his green skin. Dick just smiled, glad to know he wasn't the only one around here with the embarrassing heat in his cheeks. After a few moments, Beast Boy's blush started to fade and he looked back up at Dick, before pointing to his face.

"Hey, I didn't really realize, but you're not wearing your mask," said Beast Boy. Dick automatically lifted a hand to touch two fingers to the skin just below an eye, just like Starfire had done.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be better that way," said Dick, his hand slowly curling away. "I'm not really Robin anymore. I'm just Dick Grayson."

The main door slid open before Beast Boy could reply and Raven slowly walked in. She glanced at Dick, but didn't say anything as she slowly walked to the couch and sat down next to Beast Boy. Dick bit the inner of his lower lip. Raven was looking at anything but him. This was going to be way harder than he thought. However, he could tell her stance was much softer than it had been at the haunt. She had obviously read his letter and had been affected by it.

Last nut to crack would be Cyborg.

Finally, the main door opened once again and Cyborg stepped through. Although, his face scowled slightly at the sight of Dick.

"Oh, so the jerk finally let you out of the house, now did he?" snapped Cyborg. The older teen still looked angry, yet there was an unsettled look in his eye, as if he were unsure how to act. Dick tried not to sigh. He understood that his friends might still be angry and unhappy with the whole thing, but he seriously hoped that they would at least consider his feelings about it. He hoped his news might cheer them up a bit. It was kind of startling to say the least – there was no doubt about that.

"Yeah, and I wanted to come see you guys," said Dick, keeping his tone pleasant to not to start a fight. That's not how he wanted this to go down.

"Why?" demanded Cyborg. Dick's chest constricted. He felt the unhappy anger rise up inside.

"Because I still consider you guys my friends even you don't," said Dick curtly. There was a flash of injury that crossed Cyborg's face before the anger lessened to be less hostile. "Look, I've got something to tell you guys and you're gonna wanna sit down for this."

Cyborg merely raised an eyebrow at him. Dick let a mischievous smirk spread through his face.

"You'll fall over otherwise," said Dick; confidently folding his arms and staring at Cyborg. There were a few grumbles from Cyborg as he sat down next to Beast Boy. He leaned an elbow on the couch arm and set his chin in his hand; obviously trying to look extremely bored. Starfire took a seat next to Raven and once again gave Dick another encouraging smile.

He was heartened by that.

The group was quiet as they waited. Cyborg and Raven still wouldn't look at him and Beast Boy looked a bit nervous. Somehow, Dick could tell that the youngest of the group really wanted to forgive him like Starfire seemed to, but since he kept glancing at Cyborg nervously, it was clear he was trying to remain loyal to their other friend.

"Well, what's this big 'something' you wanna tell us?" asked Cyborg finally; still not looking at him. Dick sobered slightly, feeling a little annoyed by his friend's attitude. He took a deep breath; folding his arms as he set a stern look on his face.

"First of all, I want to say that I think _some_ of you are being a little selfish here."

Shock slammed into each of Titans' face. Cyborg whipped his head up to stare at Dick; anger slowly rising through his features.

"_What?_" breathed Cyborg, the shock completely prevalent through his tone.

"You heard me. I think that you're being selfish here."

Cyborg's jaw dropped. Before the older teen could retort, Dick continued.

"Some of you haven't once considered how I feel about this whole thing. You haven't really asked why I would want to be adopted in the first place, let alone why I choose Slade for the role."

"_Selfish?!_" cried Cyborg, thoroughly incredulous. "Dude, you disappeared from off the face of the planet! We were worried _sick to death_ about you. How can you say that we're being selfish!"

"_I_ was the one who was kidnapped," retorted Dick. "I understand that you guys struggled with the worry, but you never considered what it was like for me being isolated from you guys. For a long while, I was terribly lonely without you. Did you ever think to ask how I survived?"

At these words, Cyborg seemed to settle down; his countenance softening greatly. He glanced away, looking pensive as he breathed deeply.

"You only thought that I had changed sides," continued Dick, his voice going quieter. "But what if I had? Would you still be my friends? Would you hate me then because of my choices?"

At this, Raven glanced at Dick briefly, before looking over at Cyborg uneasily. Beast Boy turned his head to look at Cyborg as well. For a moment, Cyborg nervously glanced between the two of them. Dick's eyes settled on each of his friends briefly.

"Are we saying that our friendship is only tied together by what we do?" asked Dick, gazing into each of his friends' eyes. "We're only friends because we fight crime together? If one of us does something wrong, do we then turn our back on that friend? If one of us falls, would we abandon that friend?"

Cyborg shifted uneasily on the couch, while Beast Boy's green eyes softened into a small, gentle pout. Raven was looking unsettled completely, something Dick had never seen in her. Her violet eyes glanced over at each of them; a deep worry flickering through her eyes. Starfire looked sympathetically at each of them.

"Is this true?" whispered Dick. "We're only bonded by our job?"

"Of course not!" cried Cyborg finally, deep injury flashing throughout his human eye.

"Then, why do you resent me?" asked Dick, his voice strong, yet soft; looking directly at Cyborg now. "You completely resent the fact that I've accepted Slade as a part of my life."

It was obvious that the conversation was truly just between Dick and Cyborg at that point. Starfire had forgiven him and had even given her blessing. Beast Boy was an easy going kid and it had been obvious through their talk that he was going to be okay with it. Raven hadn't spoken much, but through her body language, Dick could easily read that she had just been worried for him. She too would accept this in time.

But Cyborg seemed to be taking it harder than the rest.

"I don't—" There was an exhausted sigh from Cyborg, before his tone dropped. "I don't resent you, okay? It's just… It's like you said, we don't know everything you had to go through, just like you don't know what we had to go through. We had to keep going. We had to act like you didn't exist anymore. Every day we couldn't help but wonder if you were even alive, but we still had to keep going and protect this city like you'd have wanted."

"You had each other, though," whispered Dick, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You still had each other to lean on. Who did I have?"

There was a terrible, unsettling silence that lifted between the group. Starfire's eyes glistened slightly as she looked at Dick sadly. Cyborg merely dropped his head, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"I had _no one_," whispered Dick, continuing his soft tone. "The first month was terrible in the loneliness. Each day was hard, but I tried to ignore it; I tried to survive. I had to train every day, I had to study every day – all the while, if I did something wrong or if something simply irritated Slade, I was slapped or beaten for it."

Tears overflowed in Starfire's eyes; slipping down her cheeks. She didn't remove her gaze, however; staring straight at Dick with sadness, yet with strength in her glistening, glittering eyes.

"It was hard," continued Dick in a softer whisper. "I was… always scared. There was no safety, no security, no happiness."

Beast Boy now was starting to break down; quickly wiping away a stray tear that betrayed his defenses.

"I can tell you right now, that if Slade hadn't made the effort to change, I wouldn't be here right now," said Dick, his voice a little stronger. He locked his jaw slightly, trying to avoid from choking up. "I'd still be locked away; miserable, trapped, forever alone and hurting."

Raven lifted her hood; hiding within the darkness that it provided.

"But because he changed, it opened a door," continued Dick, trying to keep going on bravely as he watched each of his friends begin to break down. "Not even Slade knew it'd lead to what it did. Because he did change, I started to see that he was really going to keep his word with me. And I started to see Slade as the person he was. The terrible fear that I had started to slip away. It didn't happen overnight, though. It took months for me to really trust him. It wasn't until three months afterwards that I tested his word."

Beast Boy's mouth dropped, while Cyborg's human eye widened.

"You _tested_ Slade?" asked Cyborg, shock and disbelief throughout his tone.

The emotions of that climatic moment replayed inside Dick's heart. He could still remember vividly the hopeless emotions that had run through him like a two edged sword. They had been so powerful; so unimaginably powerful in their fury as they poured through him. At first, the despair had nearly destroyed him. He hadn't even realized how much his soul truly wanted to rely on Slade for security, for safety, for trust.

Even more, Dick realized that he had always wanted an adult to rely on, to trust. He had spent five years with Batman. Bruce was definitely a reliable adult, so why hadn't Dick been able to rely on him? Dick certainly trusted Bruce with his safety, but for some reason, he just didn't trust him to protect his heart and emotional feelings.

So, why had Slade been the better choice? What had drawn Dick's heart to the man in such a way? Behind the darkness, there had been a light like no other. Once released, it shone brighter than anything in the world.

Then, that relief; that _overwhelming_ relief – it had been so beautiful and wonderful to feel that pour through his entire being. Being able to trust in some sort of stability in his life had been completely healing to his soul. But it there was something more. Somehow then, Dick had been able to erase everything. All the terrible feelings of pain and loneliness had so easily been washed away.

He began to see Slade in a whole new light at that moment.

"I did," nodded Dick, unclenching his fists. "He was furious with me, too. But he didn't strike me – he almost did, he was so mad; but he held his temper. He proved his word. He proved his trust. He also promised never to lie to me and since he had proven that he was a man of his word, I fully believed him. I trusted his word. He had gained my complete trust."

Dick looked down at the ground, his voice going softer.

"You can't even begin to imagine the range of feelings and emotions I went through that day," whispered Dick, his chest twisting slightly. Then, Dick lifted his head to look into the glistening eyes of his friends. "Ever since then, everything felt lighter in my heart and it just seemed natural to become closer to him. I forgave him for everything, then. It came easy to me. The terrible loneliness I had felt for so long got better because I had someone I could trust. You can't even begin to imagine how important that is until you lose it."

Now even Cyborg was beginning to show signs of breaking down. He wasn't one to break down emotionally, usually. But at that moment, his human eye showed the signs of emotions whirling about in his heart.

"But…" whispered Cyborg, his voice dangerously on the verge of cracking. "How could you forgive him after all that?"

Dick bit his lip; swallowing once and shrugging lightly.

"I don't really know," said Dick, his voice gentle and soft. "It just happened. But I'm glad I did. I guess it's weird to say that I trusted my 'kidnapper', but to be honest with you, he was changing. He didn't realize it, but he was. He became more patient, he became softer, he became kinder. He was even protective over me."

The memories of that first mission flooded over Dick's consciousness. He had been trying so hard to push away his feelings. He had begun so quickly to associate Slade as a parent figure after his trust had been proven. But he had been too afraid of what it would mean if he accepted such feelings. Never had he imagined the terrible feelings of loss he'd feel when he saw Slade fall from those bullets.

After that, there had been so many times that he had wished that everything could be different. He so wished that he could have both Slade and his old life. He wanted both, but it seemed as if that would be impossible. Surely he'd have to choose between light and Slade; between his friends and a father.

But it always seemed as if Slade was constantly making the right choices; opening doors that would've been impossible months ago. Every time; Dick had no power to change the possible future, no matter how much he wished for it – only Slade had held that power.

And it seemed that he had chosen the future that Dick had been begging for – _wishing_ beyond anything for so many months.

Years even.

His friends were quiet, only occasionally lifting a hand to a face to wipe away a tear – those hands belonging to Starfire and Beast Boy. Cyborg only showed his emotion through his deep breathing and Raven hadn't emerged from her hood yet, so there was no proof of her feelings.

"You know," continued Dick softly. "I always thought there was good and there was evil; those who committed crimes and those who stopped them – the two sides opposite like day and night. The line separating them was meant to be perfectly clear."

There was a small burning sensation that began to build up inside Dick's eyes.

"But I was wrong; or really, I didn't have the full picture. It's true – there is good and there is evil. But that doesn't mean that by people's actions, they're perfectly divided by the line that separates good from evil. People are defined by their choices; collected and gathered to create the picture of who we truly are; a mixture of both good and poor choices – because nobody is perfect. I want to think that I'm a good person, but what has made me that way? How can I prove my goodness to others?"

That question itself seemed endless in the answers.

Did he want to be nice or good for the sake of it? Was he only trying to prove his worth to others?

Or did he _really_ want to bring a smile to someone else? Did he _really_ want to protect those who couldn't protect themselves? Was his desire to help others truly selfless? Or was there some other underline desire?

No, Dick fully believed that the glowing sensation that he experienced when he helped others was just a special gift. Was it selfish to want to feel that feeling? Not at all; not when his true desire was to protect the innocents from experiencing the tragedies of life that were caused by those who made a cruel choice.

Like the man who had murdered Dick's parents.

Dick did realize that after so many poor choices, a person's heart could turn dark – there was no way that Tony Zucco ever felt remorse for his actions. He laughed when Dick's parents had fallen. There was no twinge in his heart telling him that the choice he had just made was a terrible one.

But that was the amazing thing – Slade _had_ changed, _had_ felt remorse for his dealings with Dick, _had_ grown in stunning ways for a man that could've been considered hardened by life. Dick couldn't help but wonder what had caused the change. Had it been his influence? Was there something about him that softened Slade's heart so much that the man could grow to love him? So much so that he'd even give up the occupation he'd worked so hard to create over the past years?

Perhaps there was something special about Slade, too.

Dick succumbed to the burning in his eyes; tears building up around the edges there to quickly slip down his cheeks.

Maybe Dick just got lucky that out of all the people in the world he could've been kidnapped by, it was by a man who turned around his life for him. Maybe it was truly luck that had created such a stunning situation.

But to be honest…

Luck had _nothing_ to do with it.

Dick rubbed a rough palm at his wet cheeks, sniffling once. Starfire was freely crying now herself and Beast Boy was battling a losing fight with his tears. Cyborg's jaw was locked, obviously trying his hardest to stay the stoic one around here. The only sign from Raven were her trembling shoulders.

"All I know is that I want to look for the good in others," whispered Dick, still trying to stop the flow of tears. "Just because someone commits a crime, that doesn't make them a evil person – they just made a bad choice. It's up to us to protect people from other peoples' bad choices. I think it's also up to us to try to convince others to stop making so many bad choices. Perhaps convince them that there's something a little better."

He laughed once through those pesky tears.

"Just like what happened with Slade."

"So… Slade's good choices are now overshadowing his bad ones?" asked Cyborg in a low tone; the sound of his voice feeling strained slightly. "Somehow… I just can't see it. Slade's a criminal. He's the world's most famous _assassin_. It's not like that's gonna change with a few good choices."

Dick smirked widely, sniffing once and feeling excited to now tell his amazing news. With one final swipe over his tears, he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, about that. It's pretty simply," said Dick, speaking slowly to build it up. He paused for a moment before continuing with a wide smile, "Slade's not going to be a criminal anymore."

All four of the Titans' mouth dropped in various degrees. Raven's hands slowly reached up to her hood before she lowered it down. Dick could see that her eyes were slightly reddened from her strain against the tears. She then raised an eyebrow.

"What?" asked Raven.

Dick smirked even wider. "Slade's not going to be Deathstroke anymore."

"_Whoa!_" cried Beast Boy, his glistening green eyes completely wide. "Wait, what? How'd that happen?"

"He said he's no longer going to be a mercenary or a criminal anymore," said Dick; nearly bouncing with his happiness. Cyborg's human eye narrowed.

"But why?'

Dick ducked his head slightly; feeling extremely embarrassed. It was so strange to say that Slade gave up his old way of life to _raise_ him. Made it totally sound like he was a little kid and he wasn't. He was almost fifteen now, after all.

But his heart totally glowed over the thought, too.

"Why?" insisted Cyborg again. Dick tried very hard not to blush, but the heat in his face was telling him that he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"Um… He said—_he said to raise… me_," mumbled Dick, his head still lowered.

"Huh?"

Dick groaned internally and lifted his head. They weren't making this any easier, were they?

"He said so that he can raise me."

The group was silent for a long moment as they all watched Dick. He had to wonder if the heater was on too high. Was it getting hot in here? First Starfire, now this? Break out the marshmallows already – his cheeks would toast them perfectly. Golden brown, anyone?

Raven lifted another eyebrow finally. In her deadpan voice – which sounded hoarse slightly – she said, "You're that difficult to handle, then."

Now Dick _really_ blushed.

"_I am not!_" cried Dick hotly.

Beast Boy snickered softly into his hands. Dick folded his arms and looked away; wishing he could stop flushing so much.

"Wow, that's kinda… That's kinda really amazing, if you think about it," said Cyborg. Dick could tell his friend was beginning to soften now by all of his words. Dick looked directly at him; grabbing the edges of the bottom of his shirt somewhat nervously.

"Yeah, I know. It's remarkable, really," said Dick. "I mean, he's giving up who he was to raise me. But I think it's more than that. I really think he wants to spend time with me – you know, not miss a second of it. He really does care."

"Who'da thought that Slade would turn out to be a pretty good father, huh?" said Beast Boy with a soft smile. "It's like attack of the crazies, you know."

"You guys don't know this, but he actually was a father before all this. Three kids," said Dick, hoping that this was okay to share, but plowing forward anyways. All four pairs of eyes widened slightly. Dick nodded with a sad smile. "Yeah, but because of his choices in life things happened. His eldest ended up getting killed and his second lost his voice. The third was his daughter. She was supposed to have died in an explosion, but she ended up surviving it. But her vision of the world became warped. For eight years, Slade thought she was dead, too."

"So, Slade's trying to make up for past mistakes as well?" asked Raven.

"Would seem so," answered Dick with a shrug. But he also knew that Slade really cared about _him_. With or without the past, Slade would've grown to care about Dick every time.

"Wow, that's like intense," said Beast Boy in awe. "Who'da thought Slade was actually… I dunno, normal. I mean, total family guy and everything."

"I think I've learned from this experience that everyone is normal," said Dick. "Sometimes, though, people hide it behind a persona. I mean, I do it. When I was Robin, I was pretty different than when I'm Dick Grayson. A lot different, actually. I created someone who could fight crime, who didn't have a tragic past. It's kind of weird and hard to explain, since none of you really have secret identities."

The group fell silent for a moment.

"So," began Raven. "Is everything _really_ okay between the two of you? It's… normal?"

Dick smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, it's amazing actually. It's also really hard to explain – and somewhat special. I can't really put into words my feelings about it all. All I can really say is it's perfect. It's so amazingly perfect, I can't even tell you."

Dick ducked his head slightly; his mouth going dry. His tone went quieter and softer as he continued.

"You guys heard about my past, right? Well, this is the first time since then that I've felt like everything was all right – that I was going to be all right. I know it's weird that Slade, of all people, was the one to make me feel that way, but he was. And the best part of it all is he isn't going to be a criminal anymore."

Dick got a sheepish expression and grinned sardonically. "So, I'd appreciate it if you guys didn't press charges against him. It's kind of hard to have any quality time with my new father if he's in jail, you know."

That got him some grins.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," said Dick, smirking happily. "He said that I don't have to be a mercenary. In fact, he said that if I ever was—_wait_, never mind; you don't need to know that." There were a few raised eyebrows before Dick continued hurriedly, trying to ignore the oncoming blush from his slipup. "He said that if I wanna be a Teen Titan, then he won't stop me. So, is there room for another Titan on this team?"

Dick was instantly 'glomped' by three people. It took all of Dick's strength not to collapse backwards from the weight of the three bodies. Starfire's arms were clamped around his waist, while Cyborg was incessantly ruffling his hair, while Beast Boy somehow managed to wrap his arms _and_ legs around Dick's neck – all in all, a very heavy group hug. Dick laughed through it all. It had been so long since he had felt this. While he was thankful for the new father in his life, it was bittersweet in some ways since it had stolen time away from his friends. But it seemed that the time would soon be made up.

It was like he had never left.

As he got detangled from the group, Dick walked over to Raven and forced her into a hug. At first, his friend tensed from the contact, but soon he felt her arms wrap around his waist. He heard a soft whisper in his ear that he knew only he could hear.

"_Welcome back_."

He smiled widely once he withdrew from her. She gave him a soft smile in return. Then, Dick looked over at Cyborg.

"So, Cyborg. You've been the leader around here, right? Need an assistant? I know you might wanna stay the leader since—"

Cyborg handled him a communicator instantly. Dick accepted it with a tilt of his head.

"You can have the job. Take it back. You can be the leader. _Please_ be the leader. I _beg_ of you," said Cyborg seriously. Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Wh—what?"

"I do _not_ know how you did it, man," said Cyborg, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "How the heck can you stand it? I've never seen so much paperwork in my life. I'm done. You can have your old job back. _Please, take your old job back!_"

"The paperwork's not so bad," said Dick lightly. Cyborg nearly drowned him in an incredulous glare. Dick tried to look sheepish after getting that. He shrugged somewhat. "Well, it's not too bad for me. I'm used to it, anyways."

"Good, you can do it, then," said Cyborg with a smirk. "That way, _I_ don't have to."

Dick chuckled lightly. He couldn't believe that everything was so amazingly falling back into place. It was like nothing had changed – well, one important thing _had_ changed. Dick now had a father to rely on. He could have both – father and friends. It was okay to have both. He was allowed to have both. Such things brought a bright glow to Dick's heart.

He was truly blessed at that moment, wasn't he?

A moment later, Beast Boy sidled up to him and snickered, jabbing an elbow into Dick's side; a wry, playful smirk lifting his mischievous face.

"I forgot to mention, but you've got the prettiest _baby_ blue eyes, you know that, right?"

Dick flushed at the teasing tone and glanced away. First Starfire compliments them and now Beast Boy teases him about them – what next?

"You're green, Beast Boy; complete with pointed ears and fangs," said Raven, her voice completely flat. "You should really keep your mouth shut."

It was now Beast Boy's turn to flush. He had the good conscious to look repentant after a moment. Dick smiled at the effort from Raven. Cyborg snickered at this, looking down at the young changeling with a smirk on his face.

"Rae's got you there, BB."

Beast Boy grumbled something, his face verging on those complimentary Christmas colors again.

"Um…" started Raven's monotone voice. She looked a little uncomfortable. "I know this isn't my style… But… don't you think this calls for a celebration or something…"

She looked even more uncomfortable at the end, looking completely at unease. Dick raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by Raven's request. It definitely wasn't her style at all to suggest such a thing. There was a shout of excitement from Beast Boy as he jumped onto Cyborg's back, his feet on his friend's shoulder.

"_Yeea–aah!_ All you can eat—"

"—free form—"

"_Breakfast explosion!_"

Raven groaned. "I shouldn't have asked…"

The two of them snatched Raven up before she could complain any further and darted to the kitchen area. The fridge was opened and ingredients were piled onto the countertop as quickly as possible. Eggs, butter, milk, waffles, fresh bacon – plus flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar made it onto the countertop as well. Raven sat on a seat, leaning an elbow against the countertop. She looked extremely irritated and tired through the commotion.

"Rob—_Dick_," called Starfire's soft voice next to him. Dick turned slightly towards the source.

"Hm?—"

Dick was enveloped by Starfire's arms; those arms wrapping around his neck tenderly and softly. His face was completely engulfed by the delicate strands of her hair; the unfamiliar sweet scent of her shampoo wafting over his senses. Dick was stilled completely; frozen to the spot in his shock.

"_I knew you would come back one day_."

Dick's face flushed with fire. He slowly raised his arms to attempt some sort of coherent action; curling them around Starfire's waist in a hug. Then, his brain slowly caught up to him and he tightened his hold; dipping his head into her neck in a full embrace. His heart fluttered and twisted in multiple emotions; gratitude for everything, happiness, and now this new emotion that seemed to only be associated with Starfire solely.

Life might've just got a little harder for poor Dick.

Or maybe it was only the beginning of beautiful times.

A moment later, Starfire withdrew from him; her smile flooding throughout her features. She took him by the hand for a moment to lead him towards the group. Their hands parted once she lifted into the air to join in the festivities.

Dick could still feel the sensation of her warmth in his hand and he clenched it slowly; keeping the soft moment close to his heart.

He smiled.

"Who wants tofu waffles!" cried Beast Boy excitedly as he suddenly popped up from behind the countertop, holding the frozen confederate waffles in his hands.

"Man, _nobody_ wants tofu waffles," snapped Cyborg, bearing down on him with distaste in his expression. Beast Boy looked greatly offended by this.

"Well, I do. Pass me the soy milk."

"Dude, I'm telling you – you ain't getting anywhere near that soy milk."

"_Maaaan!_ Pass me the soy milk!"

Cyborg ignored him and pointed at the waffles. "If there any meat in the tofu?"

Beast Boy looked affronted. "No, there's no meat in the tofu. It's _tofu!_"

"Then, nobody wants it," said Cyborg smugly. He turned to Raven and smiled to her. "You like _normal_ waffles, don'tcha, Rae?"

Raven rolled her head slightly to look at Cyborg; appearing thoroughly bored with all of this. Her deadpan voice floated over the group, "More than life itself." She picked up one of the waffles and waved it wanly. "Evil beware: we have waffles."

Dick held back a snort as Beast Boy giggled. He turned his gaze towards the large window of the main room. He walked over to it as the group continued to babble and argue over the breakfast celebration – Starfire was jumping in with a bottle of her favorite topping at the ready: mustard.

Dick looked out over the bay and smiled as he caught sight of Slade's boat. The man looked so small from the distance, but Dick could make him out perfectly – even his face. The man was leisurely throwing a line into the ocean and reeling it back in every now and then – he really _was_ fishing. Dick pulled out the small communicator that Slade specifically made for him. It had a texting feature and Dick sent him a text of, _"All is well. All is perfect."_

Dick folded the communicator closed and watched as the man received it. Slade smiled at it and then continued his fishing. It was only a moment later that the line jerked and pulled. Slade expertly began to reel his catch in. Dick turned around to join his friends in the celebration. The two boy were still heavily arguing the type of waffles – the ingredients still hadn't been prepared yet – while Raven looked like she was about to blow a fuse, and Starfire was happily decorating her stack of frozen – meaning _uncooked_ – waffles in bright yellow.

Well, it looked like that they'd be having fish for dinner.

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Fifty: Blue Birthday – A sudden change occurs over Dick's mood and Slade struggles with what to do; also internally off kilter with his own recent decision.

**Author's Notes:** And there ya go! The buddings of a Dickie and Kori romance. *giggles* I love doing sweet, fluffy romance. It's too adorable. If you want drama, I can always give that to you; but _romance drama_ is flat out _no, never!_ XD I can't stand stupidity in romance. Drives me crazy! Like those movies where they fall in love and it's flowery and happy, but then something _stupid_ separates them for like 3/4ths of the show; until the climatic ending – blah blah blah. Ugh, such a waste of time. *shudders* I feel like strangling those romances. A little of that junk goes a _long_ way. I prefer the conflict and drama in romance to be from outside sources. Aheh…

Mmm, if you're looking for a sole Raven/BB story or a Robin/Star story from me that probably won't happen. I can't see myself writing Teen Titans stories _without_ Slade now. However, that doesn't mean you won't see those pairings in the world of _Forgotten Bonds_, obviously. ^^ The sequel will definitely expand on those pairings. It'll take place a few months (not fully sure how many) after the end of _Forgotten Bonds_. Since they're still pretty young, it'll only really scratch the surface of these pairings. To be honest, I'm still working it all out in my mind. O.O It'll be some time because I'll be publishing my original novel and finishing _Warped Identity_ first. :)

If you _really_ want to see some romance from me, _Warped Identity_ will have plenty of Rob/Star and plenty of Slade/Mary.

And you're always free to give me info because I don't always see everything at the wikis that I derp at. XD *hasn't read a single DC comic in her life – owns 5 seasons of TT, though*

Oh, and after a few comments about being irritated by Beast Boy, I thought I'd add a few just deserts for our poor changeling. XD LOL, see? Your reviews create the funniest embarrassing moments for these dear characters. *giggles*

Yeah, Mento totally seems like that kind of guy. But in a way without love and reassurance. I can totally see it, especially since I watched the first 10mins of the 1st episode of the 5th season. There's something about that chap that irks me…

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Wednesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	50. Blue Birthday

**Author's Note:** Wooo! Half the week gone by and only two more days after today. This is a dream, I must say. Thanks for all the continual support! ^.^

*laughs lightly* Aha, that's been too true for years for me – a childlike, yet ancient soul. I've always been best friends with people 10 years younger than me and people 20+ years older than me. XD I generally look around my peer group and scratch my head in confusion. *chuckles* But to be honest with you, I wouldn't change a thing.

*winks*

So, clarification. In _Forgotten Bonds_, Slade went to apologize to his ex-wife, Adeline. _Warped Identity_ is an AU story with Slade being Robin's biological father. Therefore, Mary is his love interest in that one, being Robin's true mother. There is no Adeline in _WI_. As for how to Adeline took it here, well… Who knows, we might see some interesting things sometime in the next story. ^^

I totally see Mento like that. He's so stern, so _something_. I dunno, he still irks me. XD But I don't see it from the others.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Fifty**

**Blue Birthday**

**March 19th, 2009. Thursday, 1:12 pm.**

Slade honestly thought everything was going good.

The boy had reconciled with his friends and was even in contact with them daily with a cell phone that Slade had provided him – not to mention that Dick had a Titans' communicator as well. The door to the outside world was open to him. Everything seemed like a normal family even and Slade was still mentally adjusting to it at times, since there were moments where it all felt strange to him. But he still enjoyed it. It was a slower pace of life, true; but there was something just perfect about it.

He even gave the boy time to acclimate to his new freedom – eliminating the intense training regime from the boy's schedule. Slade was still planning to give the boy a schedule to keep sometime soon. Dick was still a fourteen year old boy – he still had much to learn and since Slade was the parent, that meant he had the responsibility to keep Dick learning. Slade was already going over all the things that he knew would be most helpful for the future he figured Dick would pursue.

Slade had to chuckle over the thought. What hero could readily say that he had an expert ex-villain teaching him all the knowledge that had been acquired through the years, to train him perfectly in ways a normal hero wouldn't even imagine? _And_ teach him for the sake of making him the best hero he could become.

Well, Slade had to admit – he was sort of proud of himself for sliding into the fatherly role pretty easily.

But something was wrong.

Dick was allowed back as a Teen Titan – as leader, in fact; but he told his friends to give him a few days. And thus, he never left; not once to go out with his friends. After months of not seeing them at all, Slade thought this was definitely odd behavior, but when Slade had actually heard the boy decline an offer to go out for _pizza_… Well, it was then he _knew_ the boy was _completely_ off.

Something was terribly wrong and Slade couldn't figure it out. As each of the recent three days progressed, the boy seemed to droop into a deeper depression. It was definitely beginning to become alarming to Slade and he just wasn't sure what to do. Nothing he or Wintergreen did could get anything out of the boy. He just was a wisp, apathetically drifting here and there. Slade had never seen the boy act like this and the worry was beginning to eat at his insides.

That was new – the worry; that annoying emotion that seemed to come with the occupation.

The three of them were eating a late lunch and Slade was watching the boy carefully as he picked at his food. This wasn't the first time Dick wouldn't really eat properly; the past day only getting worse. There was also a terrible gloom hanging over Dick. It was completely unsettling, not to mention worrying; and Slade hated worrying like this – also brought indigestion, interestingly enough. It was a waste of time and he certainly didn't have time to waste in worry.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. He actually had all the time in the world, especially now that he stopped being Deathstroke. He had placed all his contacts into lockdown. To those who knew Deathstroke and knew how to get into contact with him, it would be as if Slade had disappeared from off the face of the planet. No one would know what happened to him.

There were times that Slade found himself at a loss, unsure what to fully do with his time. The choice of abandoning his assassin ego was, at times, throwing things out of whack in Slade's mind. He almost felt paralyzed; teetering on the edge of being _Deathstroke_ the assassin, mercenary; and being _Slade Wilson_, stay at home father. Things he would've done as Deathstroke with his Apprentice were sometimes different than what he would've done as Slade Wilson with his son.

Thus, his paralyzing feeling of truly knowing what to do. After so many years of his father side being dormant, it was difficult to fully remember what he should do.

But at other times, it almost felt freeing, actually. Slade _was_ enjoying the self proclaimed vacation more than he thought he would. But with Dick acting so strangely, Slade wasn't enjoying it as much as he would.

"Richard, finish your lunch," chided Wintergreen, pointing to Dick's mostly unfinished meal. Dick shrugged lightly.

"I'm not really hungry," said Dick, his voice soft and tired. Wintergreen glanced over at Slade, giving him a pointed look. It was obvious the old man was getting worried about the boy's eating habits. Dick had barely eaten anything and that just wasn't good for his health.

"Dick, you're to sit there until Will says you've eaten enough," said Slade, pointing to his food with a fork. He hoped the boy would take that as a good warning to eat.

But he didn't.

"I'm not hungry, sir," said Dick, looking up at him. His crystal blue eyes were glazed over – almost in misery.

"Eat anyways," said Slade, yet in a soft tone. There was a forlorn sigh that escaped from Dick and he pushed away his plate; leaning his folded arms onto the table.

"I can't," whispered Dick, hiding his face into his arms. His voice was muffled as he continued, "I'll just sit here, then."

Slade watched him. A month ago, he'd demand total obedience from the boy, even threaten his obstinacy with a reprimanding swat. But Slade was unsure how to proceed with this right now. He just couldn't be sure if the boy wasn't feeling well or if he was just being difficult – Slade believed the former more, however.

"Dick, look up," instructed Slade. The boy rubbed his face back and forth a few times before he obeyed him. The moment the boy's forehead surfaced, Slade's hand was on it. Dick's eyes widened briefly for a moment. Then, they closed; a soft sigh escaping from his entire body. After another moment, Slade withdrew his hand.

Well, the boy wasn't overly warm. So, he wasn't sick. Then, what on earth was going on with the boy? Was he testing his limits again with this show of uncooperativeness? But somehow, Slade knew that wasn't the case. Dick had been so eager to please recently, not to mention pretty clingy.

Still, Slade had to set the boundaries.

"Dick, you know how I feel about you disobeying me," said Slade, keeping his tone soft and gentle; yet authoritative. "I'd rather not have to express my feelings further on the matter."

"I just can't eat, sir," whispered Dick; his face hidden again and his voice muffled. "Please don't make me."

Slade sent Wintergreen a confused look, who in turn sent him a very worried one.

Frustration shot through Slade's chest. He just didn't like this nonsense at all. What on earth was going on with this boy? Since when did he mope around like this? Where had that happy boy gone? Was his mind thinking up some convoluted scenario like he had with the knowledge of Rose? But hadn't Slade made it very clear how he felt by now?

Well, whatever it was, Slade wasn't going to tolerate this behavior anymore. He was done with it. He wanted his bright eyed boy back and he wanted him back _now_. He tried being nice. It wasn't working. Time to add a little sharpness to this effect.

"Get up and stand in front of me," instructed Slade with a sharp tone, setting his fork down with a hard clink to the plate. Wintergreen gave him a hard look as if to say, _"Go easy on him."_

Dick lifted his head slowly. He gave out a dejected and resigned sigh. Slade got the distinct impression that the boy expected some reprimand, but wasn't going to fight against it.

What on earth was going on here?!

Dick slowly got to his feet and stood in front of him. Slade gently took the boy by the arms and pulled him closer so that he had to lean down slightly; their legs touching. Slade looked directly into the boy's bright, yet dimmed eyes.

"I want you to tell me what's going on," said Slade, keeping his voice soft. "And I want to know _right now_."

Those crystal blue eyes blinked once; a tongue laced over dry lips.

"March twenty-first is in two days," whispered Dick in a terribly soft voice. His eyes began to glisten brightly. A wave of light flash over his eyes as the edges began to fill with tears that wouldn't fall yet.

March 21st? What was significance of that? What was so important about that date that would cause this complete gloom?

Slade's confusion must've shown up on his face. Dick's lips trembled and then the tears overflowed; his cheeks becoming flooded with the droplets. Dick tried to open his mouth to say something, but his lips only trembled more. His teeth appeared, biting his lower lip in the attempt to stop the trembling; but his teeth began to tremble as well.

Then, realization began to dawn on Slade. The 21st of March… Wasn't that the date of the death of his parents? Not only that, it was also the boy's birthday.

Oh, _blast it_.

"_I'm sorry!_" cried Dick suddenly, tearing out of Slade's grasp and bolting out of the room.

"Dick!" yelled Slade after him. But the boy was out of sight. There was soft slam of a door that echoed through the hallway.

Slade sat there, unable to figure out what to do next. Should he go after the boy? Or should he give him some space? Slade wasn't sure what to do anymore. Ever since he told the boy that he was no longer going to be Deathstroke, Slade found himself deep in thought about what to do with his spare time. Yes, he had decided to raise the boy, but obviously normal parents still went out and earned a living while their children went to school.

But Slade and Dick were far from normal and Slade had no need to earn a living – he was insanely well off. But Slade just didn't know what to expect anymore. The status had changed between them now. Was he treading too carefully with the boy? Perhaps he had pushed the boy too far right now – Dick had apologized and dashed off. Slade put a hand over his face and began to rub; thoroughly confused and tired by everything.

Why did he feel so strange?

"Slade, why aren't you going after that child?" demanded Wintergreen, sounding extremely severe. Slade looked up from his hand.

"I'm not sure if I _should_ go after him," said Slade.

"Nonsense," snapped Wintergreen. "He needs you. I don't understand why you're not just going right now. You always did before. What's stopping you now?"

There was a long, tired sigh from Slade.

"The change," murmured Slade. "Ever since I made that decision, I'm just not sure how to proceed anymore."

Now there was an exasperated sigh from Wintergreen as he shook his head.

"What change? There's hasn't been some major change recently."

"Yes, there was—"

"All you did was stop being Deathstroke. That really has nothing to do with you, Slade," said Wintergreen, interrupting him.

"Of _course_ it has something to do with me," snapped Slade, his tone light, though. "It has _everything_ to do with me."

"It isn't your complete identity," retorted Wintergreen. "You've been doing the right thing all this time. Before, wouldn't have you gone after Richard to make sure he was all right? Then, you should do just that now."

"I suppose I should," said Slade with a nod. "But I still think that there's been a big change recently and I feel a bit unsettled by it."

"Slade, you can't honestly be telling me that _retirement_ is completely throwing you off your game," said Wintergreen with wry eyebrow lift. "Who cares about Deathstroke, for crying out loud! Do you truly think that single choice was the thing that has made you change?"

"I…"

_I gave up being Deathstroke. I did that for the protection and safety of that boy. I don't want anything to happen to him. Not like the others. But Deathstroke was a core part of who I've become. In some ways, I'm not sure how to proceed from here._

_What changed?_

"Oh, come _on_, Slade," said Wintergreen, sounding completely exasperated now. "What are you looking for? Some big instant to announce the moment where everything changed? Good grief, I thought you were more intelligent than that."

Slade shot the old man a glare.

"Watch it, old man," snapped Slade. "Just because you're Dr. Spock of _Baby and Child Care_ doesn't mean we all are."

"It's _common sense_, for crying out loud, Slade," said Wintergreen, sighing in his complete tired exasperation. "What are you expecting? A strike of lightning? You can't honestly be telling me that you think growth and change happen overnight."

Slade remained silent, his expression softening as he listened to the old man.

"You certainly don't expect that from Richard," continued Wintergreen. "Why are you expecting that from yourself? Are you the same person as you were yesterday? I don't doubt it. Are you the same person as you were a week ago? Not quite. Are you the same person as you were a month ago or even further back? Most certainly not."

The words settled into Slade's heart as he continued to listen. Was that true? He wasn't the same person he'd been a few months ago?

"You've been gradually changing, Slade," said Wintergreen, his tone softening. "I've watched you. It's been subtle, but it's been there. You've grown and changed like any other person. You can no longer excuse yourself from change. It's possible with you. You might not be able to push yourself physically like you used to, but you can certainly push yourself as a person; your _character_. And I'll tell you, Slade; I very much enjoy the growth you've shown. I think you're a better person because of it."

There was a moment where Slade couldn't answer; too overcome by the words of his friend. It was startling that the old man felt that way. Wintergreen felt that he was a better person because of the change that he's gone through? Was that even possible? Was it really possible for Slade to grow into a better person? Seven months ago, Slade would've laughed at such a thought. He would've thought that he was completely set in his ways – can't teach an old dog new tricks, after all.

But it seemed as if that wasn't the case.

Slade had very much learned and grown just as much as Dick had, if not more, during these months. He had learned to become softer; had learned to become more patient; had learned to become a father once more.

What was it about Dick that had unlocked such abilities? Slade had always felt something special about the boy when he watched him beside Batman and then the Teen Titans, but Slade had always thought it was his fighting abilities that had drawn him to the boy. Was there something more there? Was there some special spirit about the boy's soul that had truly drawn Slade to him?

Probably. It seemed like a perfect match – a perfect father and son match.

"_Well_, are you just going to just sit there like a lump or are you going to see if your son is doing okay?"

Slade let a smile cross his lips.

ooOOOOOoo

**March 19th, 2009. Thursday, 1:25 pm.**

The shuddering breathing that Dick was currently experiencing just wouldn't calm down. No matter how many gasping gulps, half mixed with his sobs, he took, no matter how many tears he roughly wiped away with the palms of his hands, he just couldn't stop. There was just something so heavy about this time of year for him. He had no time to celebrate the date of his birth; he was too busy mourning the date of their deaths – that terrible day that marked both the moment he entered the world and the moment when his parents left it.

But there was a worse part to all this.

Dick was feeling completely _guilty_ for even feeling this way. He shouldn't be feeling this way anymore. Wasn't Slade filling the void that had been left by his parents? Dick had to be ungrateful for feeling this way. There was no way he could tell Slade that he still missed his parents. He didn't want to hurt the man's feelings or make him feel that Dick didn't appreciate him – he did; oh, _so_ very much. It was just that even after all these years, the pain of the past was still fresh in his memories and Dick knew that he'd always miss them no matter what.

Plus, Dick had an annual ritual that he did. Every year on his birthday, right at midnight, he'd visit their grave in Gotham. He hadn't missed a year, even after the fight with Bruce. He still had gone without meeting up with him. But Dick felt strange asking Slade if he could go.

While, normally, Dick was used to being independent, the past seven months he had learned, or in some ways been trained, to become dependant upon Slade. Everything was now intertwined with the man, but in a good way; like a parent would be intertwined with the lives of their children. It was _normal_ for a fourteen year old to be dependant upon an adult. It was completely abnormal for Dick to continue to live the way he had been for the past two years or so.

He was still getting used to it at times, but it felt nice. After so many years learning to never depend on adults, learning to trust and lean on Slade for support taught Dick that he had missed so much in that regard over the past years. He couldn't believe how much he had missed and he never truly realized how much he craved its return. Usually, he had squashed such feelings down inside his chest.

After all, they just hadn't been available to him. Why crave the impossible?

Thus, Dick was so thankful beyond anything for Slade. Even more so now that the man had given up his old lifestyle for him. He was _so_ grateful that the man cared and loved him that much. It was certainly unimaginable. Yeah, the man hadn't outright said that he _loved_ him, but Dick could feel it. Love wasn't always expressed with words, but with actions. Slade was obviously a man of action most of the time – that much was apparent in _all_ his dealings with Dick. Sure it'd be nice to hear those words someday, but just as Dick was adjusting to all this, so was Slade; and Dick knew to give the man time.

It wasn't like Dick had actually said he loved him to the man's face either…

A soft knock at his door startled Dick. He quickly sniffled, feeling slightly embarrassed by all the waterworks he was going through at the moment. He had managed to bury it for the past three days, even though the depression had risen; but all these tears right now just wouldn't stop no matter how hard he tried.

The door opened. Dick made sure his head was buried inside his curled knees; his arms tightening around his legs. A moment later, he felt the bed sag as a weight sat down on it next to him. Dick's breathing quickened for a moment; frozen in his throat. He wondered what Slade was going to say. Surely he'd demand an explanation for all this. Dick had run off without finishing his dinner, too; even after Slade told him that he wasn't to leave before eating more.

Was Slade disappointed in him?

A strong arm curled around his upper back and shoulders. A gentle hand lifted Dick's head and wrapped around his cheek; forcing him to rest it against a firm chest – one that was scented strongly of that familiar musky, rustic cologne.

_It was another one of those half hugs_.

It unraveled Dick.

The sobs intensified as he turned to Slade; throwing his arms around the man's neck and burying his face into the nape. Strong arms tightly wrapped around him, almost protectively. He felt movement beneath him from the man; weight being adjusted so that Dick felt himself moved to the man's lap, his legs curled slightly to the side. The man's long legs were outstretched across the length of the bed. A hand carded gently through his ungelled hair, while the other stroked his back – so softly, so kindly, so _perfectly_.

Time passed for Dick. He wasn't sure how long he was there being held by the man. It was so warm, so soft, so firm, so _everything_ beyond imagination. Slade truly was becoming softer, more fatherly to him.

And that was the _best_ thing in the world.

Those arms reminded him that he could rely on Slade for whatever he needed. It was allowed; he was allowed to be a child; allowed to need the comfort that could only come from a caring, loving adult.

Soon, the warmth began to make the tears fade away; it always did. The comforting touch always would save him and this was a _flood_ of softness. There was no resisting this. Dick let himself be comforted. His breathing calmed slowly, the shuddering ceasing. He was safe in these arms; these powerfully strong, _loving_ arms.

"Dick," whispered Slade in a gentle voice; his hand lacing through a few strands of Dick's hair. "Can you talk now?"

_Maybe…_

He wanted to speak, but his voice was locked. He also didn't want to let go. If he talked, he'd have to let go and there wasn't anything in this world that he wanted more than to stay in these comforting arms. He didn't care that he was sitting in this man's lap like a little child. It didn't matter. He had eight years to catch up and he was going to enjoy every moment of it. He wasn't weak for needing this; he wasn't a baby for needing this; and he wasn't embarrassed for needing this, either.

Needing a father's affection wasn't weakness.

"Dick?"

Dick let out a soft shuddering sigh. He wriggled inside the man's arms slightly. He had to talk to the man. He had to explain himself. It wasn't fair to Slade. He had to explain all his feelings and hope that the man wouldn't take it the wrong way. Slowly, he reluctantly began to pull back.

But the arms around his back tightened and forced him to stay down.

"Wait, you're not required to move," said Slade quickly, yet in gentleness. "You may stay if you need do so."

Dick's breath sucked in once. Then, he smiled softly; loving the fact that Slade hadn't pushed him away, yet pulled him closer. He loosened his hold on the man's neck and slid his arms to his sides.

"It's okay," whispered Dick, his breathing hitching once as he spoke. This time Slade allowed him to pull away. He stayed in the man's lap, however; his head ducked down to avoid showing the man his tear strained face – the man probably wouldn't be able to recognize him, it was so bad. There was more sniffling before Dick pretended to occupy himself with one of the buttons on the man's white collar shirt so he wouldn't have to look up; his fingers playing with the white button.

A hand was placed around Dick's lower back while another began to lace through his bangs. Then, the hand clasped Dick's wet cheek and thumbed away his tears. After a few moments, the hand lifted away to wipe away his other tears with the backs of fingers.

Finally, the hand lifted to rest itself in Dick's hair; fingers lacing through the back of his locks.

"Dick, are you going to talk?" asked Slade finally. "I think we know by now I most certainly can't read your mind."

Dick pursed his lips, the edges attempting to lift into a small smile.

"No, sir. You can't," whispered Dick, his voice hoarse.

"Then, I suppose we'll have to use the old fashioned way and use our mouths," said Slade, his voice beginning to drop into a drawl. "Good grief, whatever shall we do?"

A soft sound escaped Dick; a tiny giggle.

"_Come on_," breathed Slade ever so gently and smoothly; perfectly coaxing. Dick's voice loosened from that sound.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For crying," whispered Dick, keeping his head down and feeling his face begin to burn. There was a clicking sound of the tongue and a pat on his lower back.

"Dick—_blast it_—don't apologize for something like that," said Slade, shaking his head and exhaling softly in exasperation. "It's your parents, correct? It's completely understandable that you'd feel sorrow and mourn over the anniversary of their deaths."

"But… But I don't want…" Dick trailed off, his head ducking lower. The hand from his hair curled beneath his chin and slowly lifted it upward. Dick really didn't want to look up into the man's face, but soon he didn't have any choice. A steel grey blue eye bore deeply into his soul.

"Don't want _what?_" prodded Slade. Dick blinked a few times, taking a deep breath.

"I appreciate you," whispered Dick. "You've been amazing. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful to you; I am. I shouldn't feel so awful when I have you now, but I can't let them go completely. It still hurts. I still miss them."

Slade stared at Dick, his eye slowly widening as his eyebrow began to lift; his expression spreading into pure incredulity. His hand dropped to pull Dick's lower body closer, forcing him a little closer to the man's face. Soon, the expression softened; a pained look filling his features.

"You are too sensitive."

"But—"

"Shh, listen to me," said Slade, quickly overriding him, yet his tone was full of gentleness. "You have it completely wrong. It is I who should be grateful. Your heart… changed mine. You're still a boy; a child growing into a man. Someone should always be there for a child. As an adult, I have no excuses."

Dick's eyes widened; his mouth slowly dropping.

"Another thing I want you to know is that you should never feel guilty for missing those who have passed," continued Slade, the light in his eye softening. "Just because I have you doesn't mean I don't still miss Grant or mourn the tragedy of my past and my choices. Having you doesn't replace him nor does you having me replace your parents."

Oh, those tears; those freaking _tears_ again. They were coming yet again and spilling over Dick's cheeks at those words. His lips trembled.

"_Do you understand me?_" breathed Slade, his expression completely soft, almost tender.

Dick nodded, blinking once to send a wave of tears down his cheeks. Relief and thankfulness flowed over him. He took a deep breath. The future held such promise. He was going to be able to live his life with a father and still with the desires of his heart.

Dick knew without a doubt; he was blessed.

He lifted a hand to his face, trying to wipe away all the tears that were falling down his face. But somehow his eyes had other ideas. They just wouldn't stop. With a sigh of resignation, Dick rested his head against Slade's chest, his cheek against the man's firm flesh. He continued to struggle against the tears, feeling thankful that he had this now. He didn't have to cry alone anymore. He didn't have to hold the tears back anymore, didn't have to let the lump build up in his throat. He didn't have to hide in his room and endure by himself.

He could accept those strong arms around him. He could accept this firm chest that he was leaning against. He could absorb the strength offered him.

He wasn't alone anymore.

"Slade… can I tell you something?" asked Dick after a few minutes. He sniffled once and tried again to wipe away the tears. He lifted up slightly from the support he leaned against. He bit his lower lip and whispered, "And can I stay here… in your lap while we talk?"

"Of course you can," said Slade swiftly. "You never have to ask for such things."

That voice was ever so smooth in its softness. Arms tightened around his lower back, patting him reassuringly once with a hand.

"Promise you won't get mad?" asked Dick, his head slightly lowered as he looked up at the man through wet black eyelashes. There was a wry lift of the man's eyebrow as he tilted his head.

"Oh? Have you done something that I'd be unpleased with?" asked Slade, thoroughly smirking through it. There was a firm pat on Dick's hip, almost in playful warning. Dick bit his lower lip and shook his head.

"No, it's not something I've done. It's just… I've been meaning to talk to you about it all week and it just never seemed like the right time."

"Like the Titans exploding into my home," quipped Slade dryly. Dick blushed deeply.

"You're not mad about that, right?"

"If I was mad about that, you'd have known far sooner than now, boy," drawled Slade, softly patting him once again. "You ran _away_ from them. That was completely unimaginable and I'd have never believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself."

_I…_

_I was afraid they'd hate me. You were the only one who could anchor me back to the truth. You were the only one who could, who would, who _did_ tell me that everything was going to be all right._

_Thank you_.

"Something happened before I came across them, though," whispered Dick.

"_Oh?_"

"_I met Rose_," said Dick in the softest whisper.

Slade's entire body stiffened beneath Dick. A moment later, a hand glanced against Dick's chin and lifted his head to look up at Slade. The man's single eye was wide in shock.

"What?"

"I met Rose. And I met Joey, too," said Dick, blinking once; his wet black eyelashes brushing against his skin.

"You met…"

Dick nodded.

"Why didn't you mention it sooner?" demanded Slade, his expression darkening. Dick bit his lower lip again and allowed a penitent pout grace his features. There was a responding twitch from Slade's eyebrow before the man let out a long sigh; Dick could feel its effects and tremors all through his body.

"Well… We sort of fought…"

"_What?!_"

Slade's angry shout shook Dick; making him flinch and coil away from the man. A stern light entered Slade's eye as he gave Dick a very firm look.

"Explain. _Fully_."

"I'm trying to…" muttered Dick, feeling nervous. He swallowed once. "Well, I saw Rose first. She ended up… attacking me in a fight—"

"She _attacked_ you?"

Those arms tightened around him again. Dick kept his smile to himself. He loosened up slightly, snuggling a little deeper in those protective arms.

"You don't have to worry," continued Dick, gaining strength in his voice. "There was something off about her. She was angry about everything and afraid to become close to others."

Dick stopped for a moment and frowned, remembering the odd phenomenon of both Slade's and Rose's eyes.

"Slade, what happens when you die?"

There was a raised eyebrow.

"That's like asking me where babies come from," drawled Slade. "Get back to the topic at hand."

"No, I'm serious," said Dick, twisting in Slade's lap slightly to face him better. "I'm talking about when _you_ die, not death in general. When you died and woke up, your eye was a violet red briefly, before it returned to normal. Rose's eyes were like that the whole time, until I stopped her and saved her."

What had made her eyes return to the light?

"And just how did you _save_ her, exactly?" asked Slade, a wry eyebrow lifted as he studied Dick.

"I hugged her."

Slade's mouth lowered slightly, his eye slowly widening. Then, there was a short single chuckle, before it flowed into more; the tremors of the man's soft laughter echoing through Dick's body. Those arms lifted up towards Dick's middle back and curled around him; pulling him close into the man's chest. Dick closed his eyes and rested there, smiling lightly.

"Only you could manage that," murmured Slade, resting his chin on top of Dick's head. There was a long moment where Slade didn't say anything more, merely gently holding Dick in a strong, yet soft hug. Dick didn't complain _at all_, simply enjoying it fully and completely with his entire soul. After a few more moments, Slade's smooth voice spoke, sending deep ripples through Dick's ear that was pressed against the man's chest.

"I don't know how to explain what happens," said Slade, his voice soft. "It feels as if there's a part of my soul left behind, I suppose you could say. The part that makes me want to continue living. I always have to bring it back. It never comes back on its own; I must compel it. I must have something connecting my heart to this world and want to continue the connection."

_So, somehow I managed to get Rose to bring back the part of her soul that made her human. Perhaps I was able to connect with her._

_Thank goodness._

_I wonder… _

_Did Slade return for me?_

"Rose is like you," whispered Dick. "She's immortal. That's why she survived."

"I figured as much," sighed Slade, his chest sending tremors into Dick's body through his exhale. The man sounded tired over it.

"I wonder if Joey is, too."

"_He sure better not try to find out!_" snapped Slade, his anger shaking Dick. There was a giggle from Dick, which helped Slade calm down; the man's tense body loosening up. Slade's arm slid down Dick's back and patted him lightly.

"It's kind of nice."

"What is?"

"I have an older brother and an older sister," said Dick, smiling. He remembered the smile on Joey's face when Dick asked if they'll visit. He was going to really like the fact of being a little brother for sure.

If this continued – these warm, strong arms; that affectionate ruffle of his hair – Dick was going to dangerously feel a bit spoiled by it all _and_ of course, relish every minute of it.

"That is true," said Slade, his voice sounding a bit reserved. "But I'm not sure how much—"

"They agreed to visit us after I asked them to."

Slade's body stilled. Dick could've sworn the man stopped breathing briefly. There was a hitch of breath, then. There were a few trembles that began to pour through the man's entire body, reverberating through Dick. He lifted slightly to look up at the man, becoming a bit nervous by his reaction. Slade was in pure shock. His eye was wide, never blinking. His mouth was slowly dropping as he stared into nothing. Dick lifted a little more and grabbed the man by the cheeks with his hands.

"Slade?"

There was no response. Dick squished those cheeks with his hands; giggling softly as he remembered doing this to his first father sometimes when he'd been a little child. Yet again, there was no response.

"_Slade!_" cried Dick, squishing the man's cheeks again. That grey blue eye blinked once, the light filling it again. That unbending eye focused on Dick finally and the expression softened. The man's arms lifted and his hands clasped Dick around his neck, engulfing it with those large hands, and tenderly squeezed him there; bringing warmth to settle all throughout Dick's entire being.

"_What are you?_" asked Slade finally, gentle awe spreading through his tone. Unvoiced questions from the man seemed to enter Dick's mind.

'_What power do you possess? How could you do something that I never could manage? Just what exactly are you?'_

'_Just how special are you?'_

Dick smiled at the questions of the man's heart that he couldn't seem to voice. Dick dropped his hands, tilted his head to the side, lifted his shoulders slightly, and gave Slade his brightest smile yet.

"I'm your son."

There was a hard swallow; the man's prominent Adam's apple bobbing once. The hands slipped away from Dick's neck and powerfully wrapped around his upper back; pulling him straight back into the man's chest. The hug was tighter than any of the previous hugs Dick had ever experienced before with the man. It was almost as if Slade was afraid that Dick would suddenly disappear.

But Dick wasn't going anywhere.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks once again, unbidden, as he closed his eyes and snuggled in the strongest, tightest hug he'd experienced in years – perhaps even in his entire life.

How many years had passed since that fateful day? That day where his world had been ripped apart; shredded into so many pieces that it seemed as if it'd never be repaired. How long had he endured the pain and loneliness? How long had he depended on his own knowledge, his own strength, his own comfort? How long had he wondered if he was doing the right thing? How long had he questioned himself?

How long had he longed for the arms of his mother and father to hold him?

Dick couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if these unimaginable turn of events hadn't happened just a little sooner. How many times could've he had turned to these arms? How many times could've he had found comfort within this chest that held him close? How many times could've he been reminded that he was still a kid that needed the love and guidance of an adult?

How many times could've he heard the words, _"I love you."?_

No matter how many years had been lost, what truly mattered was the future – and he was going to do all he could to make up for the lost time. A small chuckle rose up inside Dick's heart. He probably was going to drive this man nuts.

After all this, Dick still wanted to visit his parents' grave, but he couldn't voice his request. He wasn't sure if he could anyways. He knew Slade would do anything for him now, no doubt. But somehow, he just didn't feel like asking at that moment.

But Dick forgot the breadth of Slade's knowledge.

"Hey, Dick," whispered Slade softly, his arms loosening slightly around him. Dick lifted to look up at the owner of that soothing, smooth voice. Slade leaned his face closer to him. Dick held his breath, surprised by this sudden closeness; but delighted about it. Their foreheads touched and Dick ended up staring straight into Slade's visible and very close eye; letting the warmth flow through him, bringing him special comfort. He blinked a couple of times, a few stray tears slipping down; wondering why Slade was being so unusually soft today, and yet _loving_ every moment of it.

"How about we go on a little trip?"

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Fifty-One: Culminating Amity – Dick visits his parents' grave right on the stroke of midnight on his birthday and discovers the true meaning of a guardian.

**Author's Notes:** Oh, da fluff. Oh, let that fluff be all too wonderful. :3 *purrs happily* Just can't get enough of it. Nope. I'll have to drown us in it next novel. XD Of course, mixed with plenty of the angst and feels that drives ya'll crazy! :P

Actually, funny enough, most of my oneshot ideas are all fluff. LOL. *purrs happily even more*

And now perhaps ya'll see the connection in the summary. The answers have always been there. :3 _"Can't teach an old dog new tricks."_

Interestingly enough, the date in the story is also my own birthday. ^^ Seems like Dickie and I share close birthday dates. :3

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Thursday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	51. Culminating Amity

**Author's Note:** *giggles* Glad ya'll enjoyed the fluff last chapter. ^^ Thanks so much for all the reviews! They really make all the difference in the world. ^^

I believe that if any of you want to become a writer, then I have no doubt that you'll achieve it. Remember that with everything that you do, writing does take effort and work; refining each word so that they pretty combine into the sentences and feelings that you wish to portray. I definitely believe that through your effort, you'll achieve greatness. Write away, my friends!

Okay, if ya'll aren't _bawling_ by the end of this chapter, then I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! XD LOL, I can't even tell you—I literally _sobbed_ while writing this chapter – and I wrote it WEEKS ago. It was so bad I had to _stop_ the writing flow and go read something else before I could come back to try again – only to come back to sobbing. Editing was even more _fun_. Hurr hurr.

All I can say is…

GOOD LUCK.

On with the story!

* * *

_Hope has a way of turning its face to you just when you least expect it._

_You walk in a room; you look out a window and something there leaves you breathless._

_You say to yourself, "It's been a while since I felt this, but it feels like it might be hope._

'_It Might Be Hope' by Mercy River_

* * *

**Chapter Fifty-One**

**Culminating Amity**

**March 20th, 2009. Friday, 11:58 pm.**

The freezing air bit through Dick's new winter coat with relative ease; his gloveless hands, which were stuffed inside his pockets, weren't safe from the chilled weather. Even with all the protection Slade had forced him to put on, it wasn't completely keeping him as warm as he would've liked. Thank goodness he had listened to the man or else he'd be freezing his butt off even more.

Gotham City was far different than Jump City around this time of year. While Jump was experiencing mild temperatures, Gotham just had a huge snowfall. Thus, Dick was currently trudging through almost a foot snow at that moment.

But he didn't mind.

There was a chilling puff of breath as he exhaled; his gloved hands covering his icy nose. The nighttime darkness shadowed everything; only the waning crescent moon offered any true light. The graveyard was surrounded by dark buildings; the light from the ambient city shadowing the buildings and thus the graveyard even further.

Dick glanced at the watch on his wrist and hurried through the snow covered ground. He wanted to be at the graves right at midnight. He'd be fifteen then. One more year older; one more year without them. Coming to his parents' grave was a bittersweet ritual that he did every year. Even after running away from Batman, he had come back briefly to pay his respects, but he never did see Batman. Dick had always wondered if he'd see him, since Bruce knew of the ritual, but he never showed up to confront Dick.

Dick had then figured that their relationship could never be repaired if Bruce couldn't even come and see him on this day of sorrow.

But now, it wasn't just a day of sorrow for Dick, it was also a day of hope. He had something to tell his parents; something amazingly crazy and awesome – something that would reassure them that he was safe and being taken care of; that he was _loved_ once again.

Dick stopped suddenly as he came to the familiar stone.

The gravestone was combined for the two of them. It was made of silver grey marble with a stone angel sitting in the middle. The angel was leaning forward with its arms outstretched over the two of them – as if in embracing protection. Dick knelt down in front of the graves and began to brush of the snow from the marble lettering, the snow biting into his skin; running his fingers carefully over their names.

He tried very hard not to cry.

After he was finished cleaning the grave, he sat back on his heels; uncaring that he was sitting in the cold, wet snow. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not want to start crying yet. He knew he would – it was just inevitable. But he wanted to say something to them before he broke down. Already he could tell his voice was going to crack and he couldn't blame it on puberty.

"H–hi, Mama. Hi, Papa," said Dick softly with a small choke. He dropped his head to stare at his lap. "Been another year, huh. A… lot's happened. Something a little crazy, too." Dick chuckled and shook his head; his voice becoming stronger as he spoke.

"Actually, it's super crazy. I was kidnapped. Now, before you get all worried, I can tell you everything's fine – obviously or I wouldn't be here right now."

Dick let out a long sigh.

"Where to start… Such a long story, too. I guess I'll have to do a watered down version. Well, I was kidnapped by a villain, who turned out not to be as villainous as I thought him to be. It was rough at first – heck yeah. But over time, he changed. And… I changed, too."

Dick had to swallow back another lump in his throat.

"It's crazy. You're gonna think I've gone nuts. But I… I grew to love him – as a father. There's no doubt in my mind: _I love him_." Dick felt his chest constrict slightly as he looked at the lettering of his father's name. "I know that you're my Papa, but you aren't here anymore and I _need_ someone, you know. I need him. I hope you understand that I'm not betraying you or anything. I'll just have two fathers now."

The tears were already streaming down his face. The chilly air made them feel like icicles. His legs were getting wet and chilled as he sat in the snow.

But he didn't care.

"It's really strange, you know," whispered Dick, running a hand over his thigh; snow dropping onto his pants occasionally. "During these past months, my view of him completely changed. I came to understand him. I came to see the human side of him – and I love that side. And you know, his view of me changed as well. I think he loves me, too – he hasn't said it, but I know he does. He wouldn't give up his way of life for me if he didn't."

Dick roughly wiped away the hot tears that were quickly becoming chilled. As a single sob broke through, he lifted his head to look directly at the soft faced angel and smiled through the tears.

"I'm happy now. Happier than I've been since you guys had to leave. I promise, I'm going to try my hardest to make you two proud. But I'm also going to do my best to make him proud, too."

He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes as he tried to gain control over his choking sobs. He missed them – oh _gosh_, how much did he _miss_ them. He missed his mother's soft gentle touch and his father's playful smile. It was terribly consuming. He missed them with all his heart. To be held by them one last time…

But…

But this time he didn't feel the terrible void in his heart. No, someone else had taken that place and filled it with a whole lot of love. He was going to be okay now. He had someone watching over him. That someone wasn't perfect – but his parents hadn't been either.

After all, who was?

Besides, his someone had said that he was going to retire for now. At least Dick wouldn't have to worry about him getting into trouble or dying on him – especially since the man was basically a living _zombie_. He did come back from the dead, after all.

Dick struggled against the tears, curling his arms around his stomach and bending over. His soft sobs were the only sounds that echoed through the quiet graveyard. Ambient sounds of the city played in the distance, but overall, those sobs were the only soundtrack of this quiet night.

Thus, Dick stayed there. Minutes passed as he cleansed his soul; memories of these two important people in time past flooded through Dick's mind. He could remember the little moments, the soft moments, the happy moments, the sad moments, the moments of correction, the moments of love – every beautiful moment accumulating into the undying picture of the two people who brought him into the world.

Soon the tears began to fade. Dick lifted up slowly, looking into the stilled face of the stone angel. He brought his hands to his face and wiped away the tears of his soul. Missing these two was something he would always do. But he was glad for Slade's words. Just because he missed them, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the time he now had with another parent and just because he did so, it didn't bring dishonor to those who had passed.

Well, he was going to love Slade with all his heart.

"_Mama_… _Papa_…" whispered Dick, wiping the last remaining of his tears away to see their names clearly. "_I love you both_."

After another quiet moment, Dick stood up; brushing the snow away from his pants. He traced the lettering one last time and then ran his hand over a cheek of the angel, as if asking it to continue watching over them for him. Then, he stood straight in front of the gravestone and clapped his hands together in outward prayer; mentally remembering his parents for one last time.

A fluttering, gentle wind trilled through the air in its lilting softness; unnaturally warm in its descent.

As Dick opened his eyes, he gave a quick double intake of breath.

A woman with wavy, long brown hair sat on the edge of the gravestone. Her dress was a brilliant white, even whiter than the snow itself. She seemed to be glowing, but it was a subtle light; yet there was a brilliance and a glory about her that left Dick breathless. Then, as he studied her face, his heart nearly collapsed. Those green eyes twinkled with a softness that Dick had never forgotten.

"_Salut_, my little robin. Happy birthday."

Dick could only stare at her. It was his mother; oh yes, it was definitely _her_. But he had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. He had to be hallucinating.

"I must be going crazy," whispered Dick, closing his eyes and rubbing them. When he opened them, Mary still sat on the edge of the gravestone; a mischievous smile spreading through her face and a soft giggle escaping from her lips. Dick gasped again.

"Is this real?" breathed Dick, his voice cracking.

"Oh yes, my dear," said Mary with a firm nod; her smile still ever so present. "This is _very_ real."

_Oh, that voice_. The voice of his mother was so beautiful, so comforting, so lyrical, _so overwhelmingly everything_ to Dick's senses. How many times had he heard that voice in his dreams and wished to hear it once more in his waking hours?

She stepped forward, reaching out to his face and placing her hand on his cheek. Dick instantly felt warmth from the hand, yet he couldn't feel the weight of human flesh. Oh, but he _knew_ this touch. This was not make believe. With a choking sob, he curled his arms around hers, feeling her warmth, yet he held back from completely clutching onto her in fear that she would disappear.

"Mama," cried Dick in a soft voice. Tears welled up in his mother's eyes as she brought her other hand to his cheek, completely surrounding him in her gentle, warm hold. "_Mama_."

"Look at my little robin growing up," said Mary, the trill in her voice lifting slightly. "So big, my little baby."

"I'm fifteen," choked Dick, his voice shuddering under the strain of his sobs. Mary gave him a smile before pulling away, placing her hands on her hips. An impish look crossed her face.

"Yes, but you'll always be my _baby_," said Mary, a knowing smile all throughout her face. She made a cradling motion in her arms. "I still can remember holding you in my arms. Once a baby, _always_ a baby to a mother."

Dick let out a sobbing laugh, roughly wiping away the fresh supply of tears that were streaming down his cheeks.

"I miss you."

Mary's expression softened. She reached forward again and cradled his cheek in her warm hand again.

"I know; I miss you, too. Your father misses you as well." Then, her green eyes filled with a mischievous light. "Did you know that angels don't have wings?"

Dick could only shake his head, too overcome in the moment. His mother was here; she was _here_, right in front of him. She was talking. How much he longed for her and now here she was, talking as if eight years hadn't passed by. But she was too beautiful, too amazing to really be unhappy with – Dick was just thankful she was there.

"I couldn't believe it!" cried Mary indignantly. "I had been so looking forward to getting my wings only to find out that angels don't have wings. It's just something people made up."

Mary folded her arms and let out a little huff; displaying the expression of a petulant child. Dick wondered if he looked like that when he did the same thing.

"I tell you, my little robin; I complained. I appealed to the government of Heaven. I wanted wings." She let out a wounded sigh. "But would they listen to me? _Nooo_, they would not listen to reason."

Dick couldn't hold back the sobbing giggle that broke through his lips. Leave it to his mother to try to redesign Heaven.

"Oh my gosh," breathed Dick, more tears streaming down his face. "I've missed you, Mama."

Mary smiled and nodded; her expression softening. "I have been watching you. You are such a strong young man. I am so proud of you."

"Can't you stay with me?" asked Dick, his voice pleading, yet he knew the answer already. A tear overflowed and slipped down Mary's cheek, but she paid it no mind.

"I cannot. No matter how much I wish it, I cannot stay," said Mary in a soft voice. Dick tucked his lips into his mouth, wishing he could stop the tears from sliding down his face.

"You know," began Mary, her eyes twinkling. She leaned in closer, as if she had some secret to share. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "They are trying to convert your father, but he won't have any of it. He still thinks there is no God, yet he lives inside His _house_." Mary shook her head and lifted up; putting her hands onto her hips. "Stubborn, that man. Just you wait, though. I'll make sure they make angel out of him yet or my name isn't Mary Grayson."

A choking chuckle broke through Dick's lips; remembering all those moments she had been playful and mischievous. She hadn't changed at all. He wanted to hold her. _Oh_, how he wanted her arms to wrap around him and enveloped him in her warmth.

"You be sure to be a good boy now," said Mary, setting a firm eye on Dick. "You believe, you hear? I know you got your stubbornness from your father, but I won't have it."

"Mama… How can I when… when you were taken away from me?" asked Dick in a soft, pained whisper. Pain filled Mary's eyes and she lifted a hand to his cheek; the warmth returning to his face from her touch.

"Oh… I know it's hard," murmured Mary, her beautiful eyes glistening. Then, a knowing smile began to spread through her features "Did you know that angels are sometimes assigned to watch over people? To guide them towards a better life? Towards a better destiny?"

Dick's eyes widened, remembering what Wintergreen had said.

"Were you assigned to watch over me?" asked Dick, feeling breathless.

"No, I was not," said Mary with a gentle smile. "They thought I'd _favor_ you or something. Can you believe it? They accused me of nepotism. _The nerve!_"

Dick smiled, his lips trembling. His mother was so funny.

"No, I was assigned to a _man_," continued Mary, a light twinkle in her green eyes. "Many had tried to help him, but for many, he was beyond their abilities. But I saw, _your Mama saw_, the great potential of his heart. Do you know what his deepest wish was; one that not even he himself fully knew?"

Dick shook his head after Mary waited for his response. She continued.

"He wanted companionship; oh, but not the companionship of a woman. No, he wanted a _son_ – a son that he could cherish, raise, and love."

Dick's breath caught in his throat.

"Oh, but for the brilliance of his mind, he was pretty foolish," smiled Mary. "You see, he viewed the world with warped eyes. His heart had frozen over and I realized that not any child could melt such a heart; it had to be the _right_ child."

Dick's heart quickened and he had to let out the breath that he'd been holding onto. It couldn't be… All along had his mother had been watching over for him?

"So, I planted the seeds," continued Mary, bringing her other hand to rest on Dick's face. "It took a long time, though. I wish I could've united them sooner, but events wouldn't allow it. I found the only child that could've melted his heart. Although, I am _not_ pleased with how he treated the boy at first, but I am glad that such a time has passed. Only happiness resides in the future for the two of them."

"It was _you?_" breathed Dick as a fresh wave of tears slipped down his cheeks.

His mother had designed this? But why? Why had she chosen Slade? Why couldn't she have worked on Bruce? Not that he was really complaining at that moment. He loved Slade as a father to him. But he couldn't understand why couldn't he have been happy with Bruce. Surely he could've grown and changed like Slade, right?

The journey for Dick had been a difficult one. The beginning time had been terrible. Why would his mother put him through something like that? Was their combination that amazing that she'd waiver that beginning in the hopes of the end?

In some ways, Dick felt confused, slightly unhappy with his mother, and even more confused. But through all those feelings, he felt a peace – even a peace of understanding that had no true answers. There was a softness that flowed over his heart. At that very moment, if he had to choose between Slade and Bruce, he knew he'd choose Slade – despite the faults, the past, the everything that made the man who he was.

Why, though? What was that something that drew Dick to Slade? Was it one thing? Or was it the culmination of many things? He had spent five years with Bruce and only seven months with Slade, and yet it seemed as if he knew Slade a hundredfold better.

But what truly swayed Dick's heart the most was the capacity of Slade's heart – the man had given up everything he ever was for Dick. He had changed everything, had grown in ways that were unimaginable for a man of his caliber.

And had done so all for a fourteen year old boy he had grown to love.

"But why Slade?" asked Dick, quickly wiping away the new onslaught of tears. He had his own answer now, but he still wanted to hear what his mother had to say. "Of all the people who could've been a father to me, why him? Why not Bruce?"

There was a long moment where Mary observed Dick. Then, she smiled lightly; her eyes twinkling in all knowing knowledge.

"You have your answer, do you not?" asked Mary, her smile lifting into a mischievous one. Dick sighed. Mothers; they always seemed to know _everything_. But then, Mary chuckled and continued, "You aren't the right fit for him, my little robin. You need _undivided_ attention and now Slade can give that to you. There is another who is a right fit for Bruce. It's one that'll take a long time, too, though."

Mary let out a sigh. Then, she took on a thoughtful look.

"I think I might put in a request, actually; since I succeeded with Slade. That'll teach them for accusing me of nepotism."

Dick stared at his mother, unable to fully understand. Had it truly been her that helped everything along to this point? Since that was the case that meant she approved of Slade in some way. But how could she have chosen someone like Slade? The man had such a colorful past, to say the least. Hadn't she been worried that the man would've made Dick do something that he shouldn't?

"What if… What if it hadn't turned out like you thought it would?" asked Dick. "What if I had turned bad?"

"Oh, you wouldn't have," said Mary with a dismissive wave, shaking her head.

"But what if I did?"

"What, are you planning to get into mischief already?" asked Mary, her eyes twinkling with a slight motherly glint. "That's why I chose Slade. He'll keep my little robin on the right path."

"_Mama!_"

Trilling laughter flowed through the air after Dick's indignant cry.

"Oh, Dick; I knew Slade could change," said Mary, her expression turning serious. "I knew he could do it. I had no doubt. He just needed the right child to show him the way and you are that boy."

Mary leaned forward, bending down slightly, and kissed Dick's forehead.

"It's time. I'm so happy for you, my little robin. Your father is, too. Live well and be happy with Slade. Be a good son to him," said Mary with a smile. A shimmer flowed over her form. Panic rippled through Dick.

"Wait!" cried Dick. "Please don't leave yet."

"I must go now. But I'll _always_ be watching. Be a good little boy for your Mama, all right?"

Dick nodded vigorously, tears welling up in his eyes. She couldn't stay; he knew, he understood. But that still didn't make it any easier to watch her go – _yet again_.

"Hey, Mama," started Dick, blinking to send another wave of what seemed like never ending tears down his cheeks. "Take care of Grant for Slade, please?"

Mary's smile deepened.

"Oh, my little robin. Slade is taking care of my little one; what makes you think that I'm not taking care of his little one?"

Dick's smile matched hers.

"Până când vom întâlni din nou," said Mary, tears now streaming down her face. But there was a smile; she was leaving with a smile. Her form began to fade. Dick opened his mouth to reply, his heart tearing apart as he watched her leave him once more.

"Until we meet again," returned Dick, further tears sliding down his face.

In a single shimmer, Mary faded away. Dick hadn't realized just how glorious and bright the light her form had produced until she was gone. The graveyard was left with a deep darkness. Overcome by the experience, Dick dropped to his knees. There was no holding back the sobs that racked his body. A mixture of emotions ran through him; ones of grief, of longing, of thankfulness, of peace, and of hope.

He still cried, though.

He let it all out, sending his tears into the snow. He cried for his mother, for his father, for Grant, and for all the times when he wanted to cry but wouldn't or couldn't. Minutes passed and soon his sobs began to fade; and in its place he felt new strength rising inside his chest. A peace and a deep gratitude flowed over his soul. His entire being felt renewed – as if there were no more tears to be shed now. It had all been cleansed from his soul. There were no more bottled tears, forbidden from overflowing.

He was free now.

The future had nothing but happy times ahead; no doubt there'd be some bumps in the road, but definitely happy times lay ahead within his bright future.

He lifted up from his curled position to look at the gravestone.

"_Thank you_," murmured Dick. "Thank you for watching over me, Mama. Take care of Papa."

Dick slowly stood up, brushing the wet snow from his pants. He shivered slightly in the cold. He took a moment to clear his face of the last of his tears. He gazed at the gravestone lettering for a moment; but then, he turned his gaze to the stone angel. He smiled. His mother was angel. It suited her so well. She had been like an angel while alive on earth; it stood to reason that she'd be angel in heaven. Now he realized that the stone angel had no need to watch over them. His mother was doing that just fine.

Minutes passed as he watched the stone angel. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the gravestone to leave. He stopped suddenly as he watched a dark shadow rise along the path. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized him.

Yet again his soul was overcome by emotions at the sight of this man. But there was no need for tears, it seemed. There was this peace left inside his heart. All those emotions that he had felt when writing that letter had been healed. Still, Dick's heart felt a twinge at the sight of him; slightly in fear about what the man would say to him.

But if all else failed, there was still someone watching over him – both in this life and in the next.

"Batman…" murmured Dick. "What are you doing here?"

The Dark Knight came to stand a foot in front of him. He was just a bit shorter than Slade was, but he still towered over Dick's small stature. He was looking forward to growing taller _real_ soon.

"I had a feeling you might be here," said Batman in a low voice. "Or at least… I hoped."

His sharp blue eyes were illuminated through his cowl as they flitted back and forth; taking in Dick carefully.

Dick was still as Batman stood over him, unsure what to say. Then, Dick felt an air of awkwardness come from Batman. Slowly, arms lifted upward to clasp Dick's shoulders. A moment later, he was pulled into a tight hug; arms wrapping around his upper back. Dick stiffened, thoroughly startled by this unusual—_unheard of_—display of affection from Batman – _Bruce_. But it was only for a moment before Dick raised his arms and clasped Bruce around the waist; clutching the taunt fabric of his cape.

_How long?_ How long had he waited – _waited_, _longed_ for that moment where Bruce would reach out to him like this? He had been _dying_ for this moment, more than anything in the world. _Five years_. To be held; to be told everything was going to be all right; to be _belong_ to someone who would protect him – he had waited _five years_ and even longer for those words, for that touch.

But as Dick felt those arms around him, a deep understanding and thankfulness flooded through him. Bruce was _far_ different than Slade. This was a hug; slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, but a warm hug nonetheless.

But it wasn't a father's embrace.

Dick couldn't explain it. It just _felt_ different. There was no way that Dick would've ever thought that seven months ago. No way anyone could've convinced him of that. No one could've convinced him that _Slade_ of all people would be a better father to him than Bruce, would _feel_ like a better father. But it was fully apparent at that moment – Bruce just would never have been what Dick needed. His mother had been right – _as usual_. Bruce would not have filled the void completely. Dick would've been content, but it just wouldn't have been the same.

But he was still very thankful for the effort from Bruce and he gladly returned the hug; feeling the rough texture of Batman's suit against his cheek. It was a moment later that Bruce withdrew from the hug. Dick felt a little awkward and nervous by the way the man was looking at him.

Then, Dick was suddenly grabbed by the arms as Batman began to roughly look him over closely.

"Ba—_Bruce!_ What are you doing?" cried Dick as he was forced to move side to side.

"Checking for bruises," said Batman in a low undertone, but his tone was far from calm. Batman lifted a gloved hand to Dick's face and began to roughly rub his cheek.

"_Ow!_" cried Dick as he tried to pull from the hand, but that wasn't happening. "Not so rough!"

"You're wearing makeup to hide them, aren't you?" demanded Batman.

"I am _not!_" said Dick hotly, managing to pull back away from the rough texture of Batman's gloved hand. "I haven't got any bruises."

_Geez, way to ruin the moment, Bruce._

"Don't try to protect him. If he's hurting you—"

"Slade's _not_ hurting me, Bruce," said Dick firmly. "I swear it."

Batman took a deep breath, his chest lifting as he did so, before he let out a long sigh. The sharp light in his eyes diminished slightly as he watched Dick.

"I looked for you three days straight when I heard you had gone missing," said Batman in a low voice, a hint of pain entering his tone.

Dick blinked, gazing up at Batman; a look of questioning appearing on his face.

"I _looked_ for you," repeated Batman; a sharp, yet slightly injured light entering those blue eyes. Dick opened in his mouth in surprise, realizing what Bruce was trying to say.

"_Oh_…" murmured Dick, his mouth forming the shape. He glanced downward for a moment, unable to look up at him.

Well, this was awkward.

"I'm glad," said Dick finally. He wasn't sure what more to say. He had already put his heart and soul into those letters; and he wasn't sure if he could articulate anything out loud after purging his heart like that. He had been pretty straight with Bruce, even a little hurtful, perhaps. But, in a way, it was Bruce's style to be straight to the point.

Dick had to tell him the truth of his heart or else he could never truly move on.

"He forced you to sign those papers, didn't he?"

Dick swallowed; seeing the change in topic. He knew this day would come. He just wasn't expecting it to come tonight. He wasn't sure how to go about explaining all of it without getting Bruce into a rage. The Teen Titans were bad enough, but Bruce could really get worked up when he wanted to.

Oh, and it looked like he was determined to do so at that very moment.

Dick couldn't hold back the sigh that left his freezing lips. Man, this wasn't going to be easy. Not at all. But it was okay. Dick had found strength – strength that wasn't his own alone. He had someone to lean on and it seemed he even had his very own guardian angel.

And while it seemed fantastical to say that there was angel looking out for him, he had to think, _"Why not?"_

After all, his life was filled with amazing and crazy things. There were so many things in this world and the planets above that were fantastical. There were metahumans, immortals, aliens, demons – just why couldn't there be angels, too?

But most of all, he was glad that his guardian angel was his _mother_. It meant that she never truly left him. He always had her near him. Just because he couldn't see her, it didn't mean tat she wasn't there and that she didn't exist anymore.

She had never left him.

"I told you, Bruce; I signed those papers of my own free will," said Dick, looking directly into those sharp blue eyes; newfound strength rising inside his heart. "I agreed to it. Slade didn't force me."

Batman's chest heaved once as he huffed lightly in frustration.

"And what are you going to be now, Dick?" asked Batman sharply. "Are you going to become Deathstroke's apprentice? _Oh, yes_—" Batman snapped as he saw the look of surprise on Dick's face. "I know he wants an apprentice. Are you going to become a criminal now? Is that what you want?"

"He's not Deathstroke anymore," said Dick, not enjoying the tone that Batman was taking with him. "He's retiring now." Dick glanced down nervously, feeling a little embarrassed as he whispered, "_To raise me_."

There was a long inhale of breath through the nose. "And just what exactly is he going to _raise_ you into?" demanded Batman as he exhaled furiously. "A criminal? A thief? A mercenary? _A killer?!_"

Dick shrugged lightly, unsure what to say to that. That only made those blue eyes flash with anger.

Dick was positive that Slade would do a good job at being a father. The past few months – especially the more recent ones – were proof of that. However, there were some times when Slade molded out of his villain mode and into his father mode that Dick had to wonder which he preferred – especially those times when he was in _trouble_ with the man.

Oh, but he knew which version he liked best. He liked Slade being a father. The man could do it – Dick was sure of it and he was happy; _very_ happy about it. The man was soft, gentle, firm, kind, stern, strict, daunting, strong, and _secure_ – exactly what a father was supposed to be.

"Hopefully," began Dick in a soft, reverent whisper, "into an adult that can make my parents proud; that can make you proud; and, most of all, can make him proud."

Somehow, this sobered Batman. The fury that seemed to be emanating from him lessened. The tenseness in his body softened lightly. Batman let out a low sigh again.

"But… But didn't he hurt you?" asked Batman in a low tone. Dick could hear the worry in it. He couldn't help the impish side from coming out; a teasing mischief wishing to escape. Perhaps that was something he was gleaning from Slade.

"Oh _yeah_, he was _horrible_ during the first month," drawled Dick playfully, knowing full well Batman wasn't going to react perfectly to this. "Beat the crap outta me during then whenever I disobeyed him."

Batman completely stiffened and his sharp blue eyes temporarily flashed with concern and worry.

"But then, he totally did a three sixty and started walloping me instead."

Batman's jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening. The man simply stared at him in shock. Dick smirked up at Batman, folding his arms. The man's reaction was totally hilarious. Brilliant reaction indeed. Oh, yes.

"He… _what?_"

"Well, I believe the correct term is _spank_," said Dick, proud of himself that he could finally say that freaking word without completely shuddering in embarrassment.

Batman looked completely floored. "And you _let_ him?" demanded Batman, sounding extremely affronted. A wry smirk lifted Dick's mouth as he raised an incredulous eyebrow; letting out a disbelieving chuckle.

"I can't _let_ him do anything. He's got full control, you know. If he's got it into his mind that I deserve one, there's no stopping it – I'm _gonna_ get it. He's the adult, after all."

Then, Dick's smile softened.

"Yeah, not perfectly thrilled with the concept," continued Dick with a shrug. "But I'm okay with it, I guess. Just gotta stay outta trouble, I suppose. Although, I've _got_ to convince him to use different tactics now that I'm fifteen. I'm just getting too old for that, but for some reason I doubt I'll be able to convince him otherwise yet. I think it's the only way he knows how to deal with me; otherwise, he'd be totally lost."

_After all, Slade's a man of action. But it's okay. I'll just keep out of trouble._

_Well… at least I hope I can…_

Batman continued to stare at Dick as if he wasn't believing him. Well, it wasn't as if Dick could blame him. It was the oddest thing ever – he'd admit to that. But the past was the past and now Dick had a bright future to look forward to; and he was looking _very_ happily towards it.

"Where is he?" demanded Batman. "If he's supposed to be so _fatherly_, then where is he? Doesn't he know that Gotham is dangerous at night. He's not just leaving you alone in this graveyard, is he?"

"He's watching right now, actually," whispered Dick, smiling gently at the knowledge. Batman immediately tensed and whipped his head around as if Slade was about to pop up from behind a grave.

"Where?"

"I don't know," answered Dick, still softly. "All I know is that he's got an eye out over me right now. He'll come when I need him." Dick then smirked. "So, don't do anything stupid."

Those sharp blue eyes glowered at Dick and he had the good conscious to look sheepish.

"So, he's stalking you."

"Geez, Bruce," started Dick with a shake of his head. "He's just giving me some space so I could have a moment alone with my parents. No big deal."

"Still I—"

Batman stopped as he stiffened even further. Dick mildly wondered if he could go any more rigid without breaking something – being so stiff couldn't be healthy for the Dark Knight. Dick noticed the direction of his eyes and watched as those blue eyes hardened with an icy glare. Dick turned to see Slade walking up the pathway with his hands in his winter coat pockets – and not wearing a mask. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he walked.

Dick smiled.

"Deathstroke," growled Batman as Slade came to stand next to Dick, putting a warm gloved hand onto Dick's shoulder. An acknowledging peace and warmth flooded over Dick at the touch, almost trilling in nature. Dick kept the secret knowledge to himself, but he was unable to hold back the smile. Slade only smirked, his visible grey blue eye lighting up with a glint.

"_Wayne_, so nice to see you," said Slade silkily. Batman bristled at hearing his name. Dick mentally face palmed. Oh, this wasn't going to be good. These two were gonna kill each other and only one of them could rise back up from the dead afterwards.

Batman took a step closer to Slade so that he was standing about a foot away from his face.

"If you _ever_ hurt him again," began Batman in a terribly dark whisper. "I'll beat you up so terribly, you'll _wish_ that I killed my enemies."

"How's _the Joker_ these days, Wayne?" drawled Slade lightly, yet in a completely ominous tone. His hand dropped from Dick's shoulder to fold in front of his chest. "I hear he's got a thing for shooting little baby birds who are away from the nest. You ought to be more careful."

Batman growled deeply, his sharp eyes flashing angrily.

"Um, Slade. Please stop," said Dick, putting a hand onto Slade's arm; not liking where this was going – _not at all_.

"You treated him like your personal punching bag," snarled Batman, taking a small step closer to Slade. "Don't you _dare_ blame me for that incident."

"And you _neglected_ to figure it out, didn't you?" taunted Slade, his eye narrowing darkly. "Dick's trauma. You have no idea what _I_ know about him."

"Uh, Slade…"

"What trauma?!" cried Batman, his tone incredulously furious. "You're the one who _kidnapped_ him and caused him _trauma_. You should be behind bars – _permanently!_"

"At least I learned more about him in the past seven _months_ than you did over the past five _years!_" snapped Slade.

"Slade!"

Batman took another step closer so that the two of them were barely an inch apart. There was a sharp exhale of breath that fogged into the air.

"That's it," hissed Batman. "I'm taking you _down_."

"Oh, I'd _love_ to see you try," breathed Slade slyly, his features lifted into a taunting smirk.

"_Dad!_"

A stillness went through the two men; the two of them pulling apart slightly. Slade's mouth fell into a flabbergasted gape. He quickly turned his head to stare down at Dick; looking completely speechless; yet there was a powerful amount of emotion swirling inside his grey blue eye. Dick, on the other hand, was trying to push the two men apart before they ended up killing each other – not really getting anywhere, though; both men were indomitable in their stances. Dick was a little surprised that the term slipped from his mouth, but somehow it suited Slade now. John Grayson was Papa and Slade Wilson was Dad; both men his fathers.

Not to mention saying that got the man to shut up, too.

"Let's go _home_," said Dick, managing to force the thunderstruck man to turn away from Batman. Dick pressed his hands against Slade's middle back and began to push him down the pathway with all his strength. Dick looked over his shoulder as he smiled at Batman.

"I'll keep in touch!" said Dick, waving once happily. Batman could only watch the two of them walk away; completely speechless and stunned to the spot.

Slade stopped suddenly and sharply spoke to Dick, who only grinned up at him. Obviously not listening to the man's tirade, Dick bent down suddenly and grabbed a handful of snow; pelting Slade with it right away before the man could react.

It landed smack in Slade's face.

Slade spluttered. He wiped the snow off his face immediately and glared down at Dick, who was grinning impishly from ear to ear with a light giggle on his lips. It seemed as if a miniature battle ensued as Dick let out a mischievous laugh and darted away – with Slade running right after him.

A few seconds later, Dick got nailed in the chest with a snowball. Slade heavily smirked in triumph. In the which, he was rewarded with return fire. Racing through the bullets of snow – which was only three snowballs – Slade charged after Dick, who was shielding himself behind a lone tree.

In a single fell swoop, Dick was scooped up into Slade's arms and then promptly dropped into a snowdrift. There was a stream of shrieks and laughter as Slade did so. Dick grabbed more snow and pelted Slade with it as much as he could; that is, until Slade dropped down into the snowdrift and began playfully smothering him with snow.

Further childlike shrieks filled the hushed, darkened graveyard.

The sounds of laughter from a joyful child continued to fill the air as the two continued to one up each other – of course, Slade was dominating the mini battle, as usual. After a few minutes, Dick cried a truce as he gasped for breath and shivered from the freezing cold. With a satisfied smirk, Slade stood up and pulled Dick to his feet by the hand; beginning to brush snow from off the boy.

Slade ruffled a snow covered gloved hand through Dick's hair, which produced more giggles and a heated, yet playful protest about his hair. Then, with an arm clasped around Dick's shoulder, the two of them began to walk out of the graveyard – with the occasional ruffle to Dick's hair.

And that, of course, only produced more giggles.

Batman found the edges of his mouth lifting slightly. He hadn't heard Dick laugh like that in years. It was the very first time he laughed genuinely since his parents' deaths. Batman couldn't believe it was _this_ man that had unlocked it. But since he did, Batman let the hard feelings slip away. Oh, he was going to keep an eye on the man – _no doubt about that_. But it was obvious that Dick was happy – very, _very_ happy.

And that's all that mattered.

**The End**

_And what if trials of this life; the rain, the storms, the hardest nights are Your mercies in disguise._

'_Blessings' by Mercy River_

* * *

**Next Time:** Epilogue: A New Beginning

**Author's Notes:** *hands out _boxes_ of tissues*

So, interesting trivia. When I started this story, Mary wasn't originally part of the plot. But when I was writing chapter 34 when the Titans go visit Sadie/Rose and somehow, I wrote this soft message of comfort for Starfire. I was a little surprise by it, but then I realized who _exactly_ was the true mastermind of this story. :3

Thus, I went back and wrote that segment with Batman receiving the same message. I decided to write the contrast of what happens to those who accept peace into their hearts. Starfire who decided to trust and have hope, thus lifting the spirits of her team members; while in contrast, Batman refusing to hope, to see anything past logic and evidence, only brought turmoil to his heart. Everything worked out, but he missed out on the continual peace he could've had, had he listened to his heart.

And then, I totally had to foreshadow it with that conversation the three of them had when Wintergreen said he believed in angels. ;3

And now, how's _that_ for your Daddy Bats reaction? *smirks*

Bytheway, no worries if you don't choke up during this chapter. XD I'm just being dramatic. LOL. Should probably expect that from me by now, no? ROTFL!

Thanks for reading! Final update will be on Friday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	52. Epilogue - A New Beginning

**Epilogue**

**A New Beginning**

**March 30th, 2009. Monday, 7:47 am.**

The morning was bright and cheery as Slade sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his fourteen—_wait_, now fifteen year old son to emerge from his room. The two of them had spent the past week trying to decide the schedule that should be followed. There had been much debate, but Dick had been pretty good through it all. The decision came that he would spend the weekends and Wednesdays at the haunt, while the other days, he'd spend the nights at Titans Tower. Slade was adamant that the boy stayed at least four nights a week here and Dick hadn't put up too much of a fuss.

Slade was never going to admit that he couldn't bear the boy away for longer than that.

They also worked out a training and studying schedule that included ample amount of hours for spending time with his friends and of course it was flexible for whenever trouble arose in the city – which there was no doubt that it would. Slade insisted that he have a communicator should anything go wrong. Not to mention so that he could keep tract of the boy, but he didn't reveal _that_. Dick had teased him about being overly worried about him and had received a firm, yet playful swat for his cheekiness.

Slade honestly had nothing else to do _but_ worry about his _trouble attracting_ son.

He could already predict endless amounts of heart attacks in his future. Such things would no doubt… _asphyxiate_ normal humans, but luckily Slade was immortal. Perhaps it was a good thing he already had white hair. He wasn't sure how long he could survive this child, but it certainly wasn't going to be boring – that's for sure.

_Oh_… Life was going to be anything _but_ boring.

Suddenly, Dick darted out of the hallway and into the kitchen; skidding to a halt. His black hair was spiked back and he was completely dressed in a Kevlar suit; his domino mask in his hand. Slade raised his eyebrow. He hadn't seen this one before. Dick had said that he was working on a new suit. Slade was certainly impressed with it.

While it was still in those same traffic light colors the boy loved so much, the material was scaled like Slade's suit. It also had thin, black armor plating; very similar to the kind that Slade had on his own suit and in the same places. He wore the usual bright yellow utility belt that he used to wear and his old black cape that was made out of high density polymerized titanium The new design completely said 'Robin', but it also had a splash of 'Slade' within.

Slade brought his cup of coffee to his lips in the attempt to hide the oncoming smile that threatened to break out across his face.

"Child!" cried Wintergreen, waving his spatula at Dick. "Don't come in here like a tornado."

Dick giggled and quickly sat down at the table, placing his mask on the surface; his bright crystal eyes sparking with mischievousness. This only made Wintergreen more indignant over the boy. The old man put his hands on his hips and shot Dick a stern look.

"Now, listen here, Richard. I don't want you rushing in here like this," scolded Wintergreen. "This is a kitchen, not a highway."

"Yes, Will," said Dick cheekily, bouncing somewhat in his seat as a mischievous grin spread through his features. Wintergreen sighed in exasperation before turning back to making breakfast. Dick quickly put a hand to his mouth and let out a few soft snickers. It took all of Slade's self control not to snort into chuckles himself.

"So, big day today, hm?" said Slade with a smile, setting his cup down. Dick beamed, absolutely to near glowing. Slade briefly wondered where he had placed the sunglasses.

"Yup!" bounced Dick, every movement filled with excitement. "First day back on the job and I'm already running late!"

"I'm sure the other Titans aren't even up yet," drawled Slade with a smirk. Dick smiled softly and then shrugged impishly.

"True, but I still want to be there on time, even if the others are still asleep. That way I can surprise them."

"Well, calm down already," chided Wintergreen, coming to the table and dishing out fresh heaping servings of eggs, bacon, and toast. "At least eat something before you go. Can't have you fainting in a fight from the lack of food. You're still a growing boy and much too thin for my taste."

Dick rolled his eyes behind Wintergreen's back.

"I saw that."

Dick ducked his head and quickly began working on his breakfast. Slade began to eat as well, trying very hard not to break out into deep, never-ending chuckles. Slade noticed that the boy was wiggling and nearly bouncing in his seat.

"Dick, hold still. You're going to upset the table," said Slade.

"Sorry, I'm just so excited," wiggled Dick, attempting to hold still; but was honestly failing at it. Slade decided to let it drop. "I can't help it. I almost couldn't sleep last night."

"_Well_, maybe you should stay home if you didn't get enough sleep," suggested Slade in a drawl, smirking. Dick looked affronted.

"No way!" cried Dick.

"What if I make that a demand and not a suggestion?" questioned Slade, enjoying his quiet moment of torturing the boy. But he was given a counterattack: Dick bit his lower lip; his eyes softening to a near pout. There was a responding twitch in Slade's eyebrow and he almost had to look away. Blast that boy for trying to take him down with puppy eyes!

"Please?" asked Dick, his baby blue eyes sparkling brightly.

"I was just teasing you, boy," said Slade, after a moment of enduring those blasted eyes. "I wouldn't force you to stay home today."

The boy's face lit up happily. But then, he frowned at Slade. "You just love torturing me, don't you?"

Slade shrugged lightly, still smirking. "I have to occupy myself some way now. Torturing you sounds like a great, fulfilling hobby."

Dick shook his head, sending Slade another pout, but that was mixed with a small, impish smile. Wintergreen stood beside Dick and handed him a letter, before sitting down at the table. Slade noticed that the old man had another letter that he set beside his plate.

"That came for you yesterday," said Wintergreen, unfolding a newspaper and beginning to eat as well. Dick smiled at the letter and began to open it. Slade watched those blue eyes as they flittered back and forth while they read.

"And just what is that?" asked Slade after a few moments of letting the boy read. Dick looked up and smiled.

"A letter."

"_Obviously_. From _whom?_"

"Um… fro–from Bruce."

"Well, isn't that nice," said Slade offhandedly, bringing his cup of coffee to his lips and taking a drink. He tried to ignore the irritation that rose up inside his chest at the name of that _bat_.

"Yeah, he's gonna come and visit us."

Slade coughed, spraying coffee all over the front of his plate. Wintergreen wordlessly moved his newspaper out of the line of fire before passing him a few napkins. Slade continued to splutter through his drink.

"Wh—_what?_" demanded Slade finally, as he wiped his drink off his chest with a napkin. A cheeky grin spread through Dick's face.

"_Gotcha_," said Dick through his signature cheeky smirk. Wintergreen instantly snorted, which he quickly managed to turn into a polite cough. Slade opened his mouth for a moment before closing it in silence. Dick began to snicker and giggle.

"I got you _good_," drawled Dick, still smirking. "You really believed me, didn't you?"

_What a little imp!_

Slade slowly put the napkin down on the table and drew up to his full height, the chair scraping against the floor.

_Two can play at this game._

"Dick, I thought you stuck by your beliefs," said Slade.

"Huh?"

Slade drew away from the table and began to advance towards the boy. Dick took this as a red flag and got to his feet quickly, beginning to back away from the towering Slade.

"I thought you decided you were going to be a Christian or _whatever_."

"Um…"

"Don't you remember?" inquired Slade, his head tilting to the side slightly. He took a step closer to Dick, lowering his tone into a softer, more dangerous one. "'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.' You promised you'd never lie to me. You did just _lie_ to me, didn't you?"

"Aha… um… but–but, you aren't my neighbor," said Dick, sounding extremely nervous and backing up more until his back hit against the wall.

"Oh, but isn't there a parable in that blasted book about that? Some confounded parable called the good Samaritan or something," said Slade, his smooth voice entering his instructor tone with a hint of an offhanded manner. "—What's his name again? _Oh_—Jesus teaches everyone to love your neighbor as yourself. Some guy thought to be smart with him and slyly asks, "Well, who's my neighbor?" Long story short, it was said that _all_ are neighbors – so that _would_ include me, _wouldn't it?_"

Dick frowned, raising his eyebrow as his eyes narrowed. "W–wait a minute… _Wait_ _just a minute!_ I thought you were an Atheist. How do you even know all that?"

"Oh, _please_," drawled Slade in a dismissive manner. "Just because I'm an Atheist doesn't mean I haven't ever read the Bible before, boy. Education, after all. You've heard of that, right?"

"_You have it freakin`_ _memorized!_"

"I have a photographic memory."

"You were totally expounding on it as if you actually _understood_ the stories!" cried Dick, thoroughly indignant.

Slade leaned closer towards Dick's face and smirked at him.

"I _pay attention_ to what I read."

Dick frowned again and folded his arms; a sulky expression flowed through his features, giving the impression of an obstinate child. Those glimmering blue eyes narrowed at Slade.

"You're really determined to wallop my butt over this, aren't you?"

There was a long, torturous pause.

"_No_," drawled Slade finally, enjoying the indignant, yet nervous look that Dick was displaying. Then, a mischievous wry smirk lifted his lips; his grey blue eye glinting. "But it sure was fun watching you squirm."

Dick opened his mouth indignantly, narrowing his eyes again.

"_Uncool_," said Dick, emphasizing each syllable.

"Indeed," replied Slade with a double bounce of his eyebrows. "You truly are quite gullible."

Dick scowled and turned his head away.

"Well, it's not like I _really_ lied. Bruce _is_ coming for a visit," said Dick in a sulky undertone. Slade froze and stared down at the boy. His grey blue eye narrowed darkly.

"Dick, if you're continuing with this charade, so help me—"

"No, seriously. Bruce _is_ coming for a visit," said Dick, looking back up at Slade. "I swear."

"Dick," drawled Slade.

"I give you my word," said Dick, his tone solemn.

Slade scowled.

"Blast it," growled Slade as he turned away. "What does that _bat_ want now?"

"He's just coming for a little visit is all," said Dick with a little shrug. There was a long pause before Dick grinned up at him; his features positively _overflowing_ with mischief. "Oh, come on. There's no need to get worked up. Besides, I never said he was coming _soon_ anyways."

"You mischievous little…" Slade shook his head, trailing off; the boy managed to look repentant, his bright eyes blinking innocently at him. Slade narrowed his eye at Dick, before he let out a sigh. "So, he's reconciling with you."

"Maybe…"

"I… see," said Slade, taking a deep breath. His eye softened as he looked down at Dick. "Do you wish he had sooner?"

"I dunno, I guess. He's not exactly Mr. Cuddles, you know."

"Neither am I," said Slade wryly.

Dick shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, you are. Well, some of the time. There's just something warmer about you. _Shockingly_."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Do you…" began Slade, but he trailed off. He turned his head away. It was such a strange question. He didn't need to ask it. But that bat was always so irritating; Slade couldn't help but ask his question and it slipped through, "Do you wish he had adopted you instead?"

"Nope," said Dick flatly, popping his lips at the end. Slade looked back at the boy, surprised by the quick response.

"Why not?"

"Mmmm… Because if he had, then I would have never given _you_ a chance," said Dick with a broad smile. Then, he shrugged impishly. "Despite the fact you still display sadistic and psychopathic tendencies."

"Oh? I display psychopathic tendencies, do I?" asked Slade, his eye glinting as he stared down at Dick. The boy had the good conscious to squirm a bit under his look. Slade withheld the smile that wanted to stretch his mouth. His heart softened. He leaned down to the boy's ear. He could feel the boy still suddenly.

Softly, _ever so softly_, Slade whispered inside Dick's ear.

The boy's eyes widened as Slade pulled back; beginning to glisten somewhat. Shock completely overtook Dick's face; his mouth dropping slightly. Then, the shock transformed into pure happiness; joy beyond anything Slade had ever seen on this child's face. The boy's small body collided into Slade's; arms wrapping around his waist tightly. Dick buried his face into Slade's chest. Slade sighed slightly, wrapping his own arms around him and patting him on the back.

Good grief, the boy was too emotional over this. All this for such a simple phrase?

Then, the boy pulled back slightly, his arms still around Slade's waist; his bright blue eyes sparkling excitedly.

"_Say that again!_" cried Dick, happiness pouring from his tone; nearly bouncing excitedly. He completely sounded like a little child. Slade gave the boy an incredulous look; patting his back once more.

"No."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't that hard."

"Don't push me, Dick."

"Please? _Pretty please?_"

"What is this, the girl scouts?"

Dick giggled and commenced burying his face into Slade's chest again. The boy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Slade decided to humor the boy and continued to hold him; completely ignoring the fact that he didn't mind being hugged by the boy within the vicinity of Wintergreen. Then, a soft whisper reverberated into Slade's chest from Dick.

"_I love you, too, Dad_."

Slade felt warmth pull at his heart. He tightened his arms around Dick; closing his eye and taking a deep breath. He felt the boy respond in a similar fashion. Slade gently stroked the boy's back; using his other hand to card through strands of stiffened hair. It had been a long time since he had heard that phrase. Now, over nine years since then, it still brought a deep glow to his heart. Slade hadn't ever realized how important such a phrase had been to him until it had been too late.

Luckily, Slade wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Slade gently swatted Dick's lower back and pulled away. He placed a hand onto Dick's shoulder, squeezing tenderly, and smiled at him. The boy was positively glowing; beaming with the brightest smile ever. Slade let a chuckle escape his lips.

"You're such an imp," said Slade with a smile. Dick did him the courtesy of giggling again. Suddenly, the center of Dick's yellow utility belt began to blink red, a small alarm beeping. Dick looked down briefly at it before he glanced up at Slade with a sheepish grin on his face. He darted to the table and grabbed his mask from off the surface.

"Trouble. Looks like I've gotta go now," said Dick, smoothing the mask over his bright blue eyes. With a small smile, he turned away and quickly made his way to the door.

"Robin," called Slade. Dick paused at the doorframe, looking back at him. Slade smiled at the sight. The boy looked completely different than the one he had brought here seven months ago. It was a huge difference. The boy truly looked happy. He no longer looked like a boy trying to act like a man – he looked his age; a young, happy boy with a bright future ahead. The smile that was spread throughout his face was a pure, genuine one.

"_Be safe_," said Slade softly.

Dick's smile lit up his face; fiery mischievousness flowed through his features.

"Of course. See you later, Dad!" said Dick, waving before he bolted out the kitchen door. There was a long moment of silence before Slade sighed heavily and shook his head; walking back to his chair and sitting back down. He slumped back; letting out a deep, exhausted sigh.

"Oh, Will; what am I going to do with him?"

"I think the real question is, what are you going to do while he's off protecting the city?" said Wintergreen, a smile tugging at the side of his lips. Slade considered for a moment and then shook his head as a wry thought lifted in his mind.

"Take up knitting," said Slade dryly in a flat tone; tilting his head to the side to smirk at the old man. Wintergreen snorted in amusement.

"I'd pay a lot of money to see that."

"Don't waste your money."

"Honestly, Slade; can't you think of anything else?" asked Wintergreen, his hazel eyes glancing suggestively at Slade.

"What are you getting at, Will?" asked Slade, his eye narrowing. "I can see it. There's something cooking up in that senile brain of yours."

"Oh, is that the laundry I hear calling me?" drawled Wintergreen with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Best break out the _starch_."

Slade only raised his eyebrow; folding his arms and setting his best stare down on the old man. Wintergreen took a moment, before he let out a sigh and gave Slade a smile.

"Come now, Slade. You're a man of action," said Wintergreen, leaning his elbows onto the table and interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on them. "You prefer to _do_ things than talk about them. As a father, you prefer a more direct approach to discipline than to lecture on and on endlessly unless there's a purpose. You presented Richard with adoption papers instead of verbalizing your feelings about the child. You were a man of action in the military – always busy, bettering yourself as you excelled. If you don't find something to occupy yourself, you'll slide right back into your old habits and that'll put Richard in danger."

"And just what are you suggesting?" asked Slade. "As I'm sure you _do_ have a suggestion. You always do."

"_Well_," began Wintergreen with a slight lilt in his voice; pulling back from the table and waving lightly with a hand. He picked up his mug of coffee. "You could always start with some major father and son bonding with the child. Perhaps something helpful to the community…"

There was a long pause as Slade watched the old man take a sip from his morning coffee. Then, his single eye narrowed.

"Do you mean to say _become a cape?_" asked Slade, sounding completely taken aback.

"Mmm… possibly…"

"_Over my dead body!_"

"No need to get hysterical there, Slade."

"_Hysterical?_" cried Slade, his tone dripping with incredulity. "You seriously have gone senile. I take it all back. _This_ is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say. That—I can't—_good grief_, Will. You've made speechless."

"That'd be a first."

Slade shot the old man a glare.

"You're joking about this, aren't you?"

"Not at all," said Wintergreen, his hazel green eyes twinkling with amusement. Slade's expression resembled that of a trout. Wintergreen turned more serious as he set his mug down. "It'd give you the perfect chance to keep an eye on Richard. You never know when some psychopathic maniac decides to move here. You never know who might want to _kidnap_ him; might want to hurt him; might want to kill him because of who he is."

There was a responding twitch from Slade's eyebrow.

"Might be a good way to protect him without him knowing you're more or less babysitting him," said Wintergreen, his smile growing even bigger in his amusement. Slade raised his eyebrow at that. But then, he let out an annoyed sigh.

"There's no way I'll ever become a cape. Imagine the faces of that bat and his merry cohorts, the Justice League, if _Deathstroke_ hands in something like his résumé to them." Slade stopped for a moment, considering heavily. Then, a roguish light entered his eye as a mischievous thought crossed his mind. "Actually… I'd pay a _lot_ of money to see the bat's face at that. A face like that would be _priceless_."

"Such the sadist you are," commented Wintergreen mildly, but completely appearing as if he were trying to hold back a smile.

"Mm, quite," smirked Slade.

_Become a cape?_

_Ha! As if that would ever happen._

There was a moment where Slade continued to shake his head, still floored at the fantastical things that this old man came up with.

But then, a worrisome thought rose up inside Slade's mind – every one of those crazy ideas seemed to have come true so far. Well, Slade was bound and determined that _this_ one wasn't going to happen. _Good grief, no_. It was one thing to train that boy and even his friends should they ever come to him, but it was a whole other story going out like an idiot and becoming a philanthropist, a _bleeding_ heart, a _blasted_ do-gooder.

Not even going into the depths of purgatory itself would ever convince him otherwise. It'd be the end of the world before that'd ever happen to Slade.

Just. _No_.

Interesting how destiny also loves to bite people in the butt.

"Here," said Wintergreen, breaking through Slade's thoughts as he pushed the other letter towards him. "This came for you."

Slade raised an eyebrow as he accepted the letter. He looked at it, seeing no identifiers to whom it could be from; turning it around to check the back, still with no luck.

Slade opened the letter and pulled out the single sheet of paper that was inside. His breath caught in his throat after reading the first line. It took a moment before he could get a hold of himself. He swallowed the lump that was building up in his throat; his hands trembling against the paper.

"Slade, what is it? What's wrong?" asked Wintergreen, sounding worried. Slade looked up at the old man, his eye wide with his shock. It was just like that moment he had spent with Dick, when that boy said something completely unimaginable that had only been in his dreams.

If felt as if his very heart had stopped.

"It's from Joey," whispered Slade, looking back down at the letter. "He said he's now going to the Academy of Art University this June for the summer semester. He said he's going to move to Jump City for easy commute." Slade's tone dropped even more as emotion decided to overpower his senses. "He said that he and Rose will be visiting over the summer."

His twenty year old son and his sixteen year old daughter would be visiting him after nine years of absence. The emotion that bled through Slade was far too powerful for words; the writhing, twisting of his heart at the very thought of being able to see them face to face after such a long time completely electrified and intoxicated every segment of his soul.

_His little ones…_

Not so little anymore, though.

Such time lost. But Slade couldn't allow himself to lament. It was stunning how much Dick affected his life. So much had changed simply through one choice on Slade's part – bringing that boy here to be his apprentice. Yet somehow everything had changed, like a domino effect. Through that young, bright eyed boy, Slade gained not only a new son, but his other two children would be returned as well.

If only…

If only he'd have thought of all this just a little sooner. Then, perhaps, he'd be the father of four.

But Slade wasn't going to think on the past anymore. He had a precocious fifteen year old boy on his hands that needed to be watched over and protected; whose heart was gentle, young, tender, and ever so full of endless love.

Perhaps, Slade would also be able to be in the lives of Joey and Rose now as well.

The future truly did seem all too bright now. It was almost blinding in some ways. Slade suddenly felt the need to get himself a decent pair of sunglasses and a good substitute for a good stiff drink – it appeared as if rainbows and sunshine were about to fill his life.

Good grief, he was doomed.

"You know, Slade; being the father of a fifteen year old hero will be quite troublesome, don't you think?" asked Wintergreen through a chuckle.

Slade snorted.

"If you told me seven months ago, that I would become the father of the Boy Wonder himself, I would have sent you to a psychiatrist in a straitjacket," said Slade with a shake of his head. Wintergreen chuckled some more; a knowing light entering the old man's eyes.

"Quite. Which is why I waited until now to tell you."

Slade stilled as troubled confusion began to fill his mind. He narrowed his eye.

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, _please_, Slade," drawled Wintergreen lightly. "Do you honestly think you could've reached this point without my poking and prodding?"

_What on earth…_

"You planned all this, didn't you?" breathed Slade, raising his eyebrow. "You wanted this the whole time, didn't you? Having Dick and I reach the point of father and son."

"Well, of course. And I tried, you could say," said Wintergreen, his features completely lifted into a knowing, wise smile. "Looks like I succeeded, too. Quite well, if I do say so myself. You did the work; I merely pushed you in the right direction. Well… I _might've_ had a little help with that, too."

A gentle, lilting giggle lifted through the air; completely hidden from ears.

There was a longer moment of silence between the two men as Wintergreen rustled his morning newspaper while he turned a page. He lifted his cup of coffee to his mouth. Slade could only watch his old, yet amazingly wise friend for a few moments, taking in all what that meant.

"Will."

"Hm?"

"_Thank you_," whispered Slade, slowly wording the gratitude over his lips.

An aged smile graced Wintergreen's mouth.

"Anytime, my old friend. _Anytime_."

* * *

**Final Author's Notes:** 112 days, 16 weeks, 550+ reviews, and many, _many_ views; Forgotten Bonds finally comes to its close. What a stunning journey! Never had I imagined I would write this story. But you know what? I'm so glad that I did! Through it I made special friends, touched people's hearts, and hopefully made a lot of you laugh, giggle, cry, and sob.

I do know I created "inhuman whale-like noises".

*giggles*

What an adventure of hearts. Did you really imagine this would be the ending? Not at first, probably. I bet you were expecting something _far_ different. To be honest, I was tired of the same usual Apprentice stories. They always ended the same – Robin escaping from the villain or becoming the villain himself. I bet most of you were expecting either one. You were probably screaming for Robin to stay once you saw the two of them growing closer. But I bet ya'll never even thought of a different possibility.

In all the stories I've read, except for one, nobody really ever gave _Slade_ the chance to become something different. If Robin can change, why couldn't Slade? But he was always written otherwise, the same over and over, and I always mourned for him in the end. It just seemed like he never could change nor have the chance to grow. I became tired of his tragic character. I wanted the Hero ending, but I also wanted the Apprentice ending, too.

I must concur with Mary.

I knew Slade could change.

I'm sure everyone always sees Slade as the villain whose heart is blackened; a sadistic, manipulative man – and he is. But that doesn't mean he's incapable of change. Somehow while reading so many Apprentice fanfics, I saw something more – a potential that was always overlooked. Perhaps I created an image of the man in my mind that wasn't exactly correct, but somehow I saw something possible with him. Personally, I hate sad/dark endings. Can't stand them. I don't mind an agonizing ride to get to it – if fact, I demand it, _aheh_ – but I need an ending to be fulfilling and happy.

I knew I could never write an Apprentice fic where Robin becomes dark or where he simply escapes or is rescued by Batman. What's the point of this type of journey, then? Only entertainment? But what about Slade? Was the man truly a villain? Or had the events of his life altered his course? I thought, "What if—_What if_ the impossible happened and became the possible?"

What if Slade changed, instead of just Robin? What if through the gentleness of Robin's heart, Slade's heart was affected and was altered because of him – the way a kind child can weave into any heart? What if Slade saw that there was another possibility in life?

Well, it might be impossible. But—*shrugs*—who cares. *smiles and winks*

I'll let you all in on a production secret. Over the course of 3 months, February, March, and the first week of April, I was chronically ill for about 8 weeks. During that time, I discovered this site for the very first time. For 6 weeks, I read Harry Potter fanfiction – all stories about Harry and Snape guardianship/father/son relationships. You know those fluffy, impossible stories where Snape is Harry's real father, or he has to take guardianship over him. Not sure how I got there since I hadn't thought about HP in years, but that's all I did; read, read, read. Then, it seemed like I exhausted that area. Somehow I started reading in the Teen Titans section – all stories about Robin and Slade Apprentice fics. I don't know why I went there; I hadn't watched Teen Titans in at least five years. Why hadn't I gone into an area of fandom I was more current on? I'm not sure.

But somehow I did. And as I read, I found myself learning more about Slade as a person. Many stories shed a light on him that totally changed my outlook on the man. I exhausted the area in 2 weeks. And yet, even through all those stories, I was always left disappointed. After reading so many stories where hope, love, and renewal were the greatest of themes, I felt there was something missing with all the Apprentice fics. I saw the snarky, cold, bitter character of Snape grow to love Harry as a son; why couldn't Slade do the same with Robin? Slade had actually been a father once – surely it was easier for him to remember. I wondered why no one had ever considered such a possibility.

April 6th and 7th, I started feeling better – miraculously, in fact. Destiny surely is a curious thing, is it not? Suddenly, a big idea popped into my head. I was quite surprised. I hadn't felt the overwhelming desire to write my fanfiction ideas in years; _years_. But this one demanded _everything_ of my soul to write down. I couldn't deny it.

That Monday, April 8th, after not writing a drop for _months_, I wrote 9,000 words in sections and outlines – I haven't stopped writing since then.

The first draft of 236,000 words was finished in the course of 12 weeks, 72 writing days. I documented every day of how much I wrote. I must say, I am beyond proud of this story. It's funny. I think I brought all my learning and knowledge from all those HP hurt/comfort fanfics over to Teen Titans. Even created another story as Slade being Robin's biological father. I hope I've made this journey believable. I think I did.

So, now; to all those other writers or would be writers who would like to write Robin/Slade Apprentice fanfics, I sent out an everlasting challenge – **a challenge from Anthezar**.

Attempt the impossible. Lift the mold that Slade has been so trapped within. If there can be so many stories where Slade is the villain at so many different levels, then I want to see him in a new role. Give us the Hero ending _and_ the Apprentice ending. The man can get there. He has a lot of potential – so much so. Of course, I never expected it overnight, but I did believe in the man. I think the secret was that I never once wrote him as the antagonist. In my mind, he was a protagonist who just had a few – _well, a lot of_ – flaws that needed to be smoothed out. After all, I think anyone can change. I've even seen a story where Voldemort himself changed in the end when his dark magic was taken out. It was well written and I _believed_ it. If that creepy dude can change, _good_ _grief_, so can Slade. ^^ Give our well adored assassin and mercenary some _love_. LOL.

If any of you create your own stories with Robin and Slade growing together as a father/son, you are more than welcome to PM me and tell me about it. I love reading that rare stuff and will be a devoted follower. ^^

I'm sure you'll be able to touch people's hearts with the impossible.

Know that I've read _every single review_ – in every language – and I _love_ every one. Each and every one heartened me, lifted me, made me cry, inspired me, and even made me laugh. Thanks so much for reading and sticking with me through the entire story. You're all a dear to me and I love you all. You've all been wonderful and amazing!

In your reviews of this final chapter, feel free to tell me what you loved, hated; believed, didn't believe; wished you had seen, wished you hadn't seen; where I excelled, where I can improve; what inspired you; how you laughed, how you raged, how you glowed, how you cried, how you sobbed – and of course, anything you'd love to see in the sequel. When I do happen to do the sequel, I'll send a little author's note update here to alert you mixed with a oneshot that'll occur in between the timeline of the two novels.

Oh, and there's a hint of the major content plot that'll appear in the next novel in this epilogue. See if you can see it. *winks*

Now on to the next writing project! I'm going to work on my original that's almost finished and give it a real work over. I have no doubt that I'll publish it soon!

Bless you all! ^–^

_Until next time._

_Anthy_

_Brittany Gonzalez_


	53. Interlude One - Fluff, Kitten, & Silkie

**Author's Note:** So, I got sick. _Again_. LOL. First of all, this **isn't** the one shot announcing the sequel. This is a one shot to say I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth on _Warped Identity_. I got ill like the day after I posted the final chapter. It was so uncool. I swear that I'll work on _WI_ as soon as possible. What I'm going through is currently… chronic, but I'm okay; it just makes things _harder_. Everything. ^^;

I also wanted to say thank you to all the lovely reviews that have been given since the ending of _Forgotten Bonds_. Thank you very much, I most certainly do read them even afterwards. I'm so honored that my story could touch so many hearts. *bows* Thank you so much for making writing even more fun for me.

As for a hard copy, I am working on that now. I am going through the entire story once more with editing. I've actually updated the first 14 chapters here with those updates, the first 2 chapters seeing the heaviest of updating. Once I'm finished with it, it'll be complied into a PDF and available both at DA and GoodReads. Also, GoodReads has been updated to list _Forgotten Bonds_ as a novel I've written. Very happy about that. ^-^

So, I know awhile back a reviewer asked if Dickie could get a pet…

*smiles*

On with the story!

* * *

**Interlude One**

**Fluff, Kitten, and Silkie**

**April 18th, 2009. Saturday, 1:17 am.**

It was freezing.

Dick Grayson shivered slightly as he tightened his jacket around himself more. The rain mercilessly lashed against his body, sending even more chills throughout his skin. He wrapped his arms around the bundle that was safely tucked in his jacket near his chest. It was late and he had to get home – and he had to get there quickly before the little orphaned creature in his arms died from the cold rain. It was barely halfway through April and he couldn't believe the freezing rain. This was _California_, for crying out loud. It felt like the rain was going to freeze his butt off.

But he made it, _finally_; typing into the keypad to gain entrance into what he fully and completely considered his home. He was welcomed by the grinding sounds of gears overhead – back at Slade's haunt.

_His father's home._

Making it _his_ home, too.

On February 26th of that year, Dick had signed a piece of paper that made him a son again and that gained him a father. Of course, that father had been none other than Slade Wilson, also known as the former mercenary, Deathstroke the Terminator – yes, he was retired now to be a fulltime father.

Yes, it was indeed a long, strange, amazing story of how Dick Grayson – Robin, the Boy Wonder – had become the happy son of his arch enemy. But enemies they were _no more_. The two of them were now father and son.

Still, they were both adjusting to it.

After all, it had only been two months since Slade had retired; opening the door to both worlds for Dick. He could have the father he wanted _and_ be the hero he wanted. It was strange dealing with the restrictions that Slade placed over him, but in all honesty, it was a small price to pay for the peace, safety, and pure joy that Dick always felt around the man.

He had someone watching over him again and that was worth everything in the world to Dick.

Dick also couldn't wait for his new siblings to come visit in June. But he was thankful that they weren't coming right away. He was glad for the time to adjust with just him and Slade. In some ways, he worried that once Slade's other children arrived that Dick wouldn't be Slade's son so much anymore. Perhaps Slade would favor his real son and daughter over him, with Dick falling into the background.

But Dick tried his hardest to keep such insecure feelings at bay. There were so many things that Slade did that showed Dick that those feelings were simply silly and foolish.

Still… Dick's heart wavered in its worry at times. Luckily, it calmed with every hug and touch that he gained from the man. Every moment of casual, caring touch to his chin to inspect his face for any injuries from Dick's hero work was merely an excuse to offer reassuring kindness in affection.

Slade didn't have to say it for Dick to understand and know.

But what he truly craved were those gentle, soft times where it would just be Dick and Slade, where his father would lean closer to him and whisper in the most tender of all voices: _"I love you, son."_

Slade had done that twice now and Dick soaked it up happily. There were constant moments that reminded Dick that there was no better choice alive for his long empty position of Father.

But, of course, there were moments that reminded Dick of the side that made Slade the strict military man that he was.

He had gotten into some serious, _serious_ trouble just not two weeks ago. For some reason, Starfire had been acting strange and dressing up in weird clothing. Dick couldn't get her to talk to him – she avoided him completely. Raven mentioned something about a giant zit, but Dick couldn't honestly believe that was all that had been going on with his friend.

But then, Starfire ended up leaving the planet into space. Worried about her safety, Dick and the other three Titans went after Starfire. They barely managed to save her in time before she was eaten by some spider alien. Dick never really figured out what had been going on with Starfire as she refused to tell him.

However, once back on earth, Dick had come home to an _extremely_ irate and livid Slade – not to mention one very worried Wintergreen. Dick honestly didn't see what the problem was with being in space for three days, but when his father reminded him – _rather loudly_ – that Dick should've told him beforehand in the very least, even though he was _supposed_ to _ask_ for _permission_ before gallivanting across the galaxy.

It was then that Dick relearned a very important fact: Slade still had a very hard hand.

But he also learned something else.

Slade had been worried about him; in fact, the man had been _frantic_ with worry. Despite the painful, unpleasant, and childish punishment the man insisted on utilizing, Dick's heart glowed in warmth that he had someone who worried about him. It made Dick promise himself to avoid causing any more worry to Slade – well, worry that he had control over. He didn't want the man to fret over him and he was truly repentant over forgetting to tell Slade where he had gone.

The only downside to all this was Beast Boy had taken to asking Dick what happened anytime Slade was ever angry with Dick – _specifically_ if Slade had… walloped him. It was beginning to cause a never ending amount of embarrassing moments and blushing faces for Dick. He was about ready to strangle his green little friend, especially when he once asked in front of Starfire.

Well, life was certainly interesting, exciting, and _trying_ for the young Boy Wonder, but he wasn't about to trade it for anything.

Dick tightened his hold around the bulge inside his jacket. He could feel the soft, yet wet fur against his bare skin. He glanced around the main room, the gears clinking consistently above, and he wondered if Slade was still awake.

Knowing the man, probably.

Which meant… Dick was probably in trouble… _again_.

Dick bit his lower lip nervously as he shivered once; droplets of water dripping to the floor. He hadn't meant to be late, but things always seemed to happen. Not to mention, he couldn't believe that a kitten had jumped onto his head on his way home. Just thinking about it was comical. He had been so startled by it at first, that he hadn't noticed that it looked a little sick.

Dick tightened his hold on the bundle in his chest once again and seriously hoped it was all right. He quietly walked through the main room, the gears endless grinding above, to the door of the kitchen. He slowly opened the door to the pristine kitchen only to meet head on to a very infuriated Slade.

Mmm, not good.

"Dick, where on earth have you been?—_Good grief_, boy; you're soaked to the skin."

"Sorry I'm late, sir," said Dick in the most polite tone he could muster, praying that Slade wouldn't notice the bundle in his arms.

"Late doesn't even begin to tell the time here," drawled Slade, grabbing the nearest kitchen towel and draping it over Dick's shoulders. Well, that was good – least the kitten was hidden now. "We made a deal, did we not, Dick? You agreed that you'd stay here on the weekends and Wednesdays, while the other days you could stay at the Tower. Can't really stay here if it's _past one o`clock in the morning, boy_."

Dick winced at the stern tone from the man. _Yeah_, it was one o`clock in the morning. But something had come up with the Titans and then there was some trouble and then—

Well, there were a lot of excuses, but no real good ones. Dick felt the kitten wiggle in his arms somewhat before he felt a wet paw brush against his skin. He tightened his hold on his precious bundle and looked up at the man, taking in the young appearance even through the pure white hair. The man's black eye patch was covering his right eye, while his left grey blue eye was giving Dick that look that meant the man was meaning business here.

"Sorry, sir," said Dick, pulling on his only line of defense – his crystal blue eyes. He recently discovered – for some odd reason – that Slade was weak to them. If he blinked them a few times and pulled his most submissive pout, Slade seemed to respond positively to that. There was a twitch of the man's eyebrow before he averted his unbending gaze from Dick.

It seemed to be working every time now. It didn't get him out of big trouble, but it did save him from some minor swatting reprimands.

"Go get dried up," said Slade with a sigh, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder and pushing him towards the hallway. "Before you catch your death of cold."

There was a soft wriggle and a nip to Dick's stomach, before a barbed tongue dragged over his skin.

"Ouch!" cried Dick, startled. It didn't really hurt, but it definitely surprised him. The kitten was a feisty little thing, wasn't she?—or was it a she? He'd have to check for that.

"Dick? What's wrong?" asked Slade, his voice sounding a mixture of suspicion and hidden worry.

"N–nothing!" cried Dick, fleeing down the hallway to his bedroom. "I'll see you tomorrow—good night!"

There was a soft slam as Dick leaned against the closed door of his bedroom for a moment. He didn't want Slade to find out about the kitten and he definitely didn't think the little thing could survive Titans Tower – Silkie would probably eat it, since he _did_ eat _half_ the freaking tower. Quickly, Dick went to his bathroom and slowly extracted the shivering furball from underneath his shirt and jacket; immediately putting it into a fluffy, warm towel.

The little kitten mewled pitifully before burrowing and rolling around in the warm towel. Dick smiled at seeing its energy. The kitten was going to be all right it seemed. Dick could see that it wasn't a baby kitten, perhaps a young teen. There was a moment where it curled up; the towel around the kitten like a nest. A moment later, the kitten's bright blue eyes peeked up at him; a tiny yawn spreading its mouth before a contented purring began to emanate from the small creature.

Then, Dick was startled when the kitten suddenly jumped onto his shoulder; rubbing up against his neck and sending its purring tremors into him.

Dick giggled as the kitten's wet nose tickled his cheek. He lifted a hand and stroked the kitten's halfway dried fur, who continued purred contently, lifting its little bottom up in the air as he stroked it. Dick smiled and clasped the kitten in his hands; holding it out in front of him. The kitten's legs dangled and wiggled as he held it underneath its upper legs.

"Well, it looks like you're a girl," said Dick with a small giggle after he inspected the kitten. The kitten mewled in protest for a moment; those legs wiggling again. "Mmm, I think you need a name. How about… Kuroi? That means black in Japanese and it seems to suit you. You're all black and everything – and your nickname can be Kuro."

Dick smiled again and curled the kitten in his arms, stroking her softly. She mewled again, this time sounding happy, before she continued to purr. But Kuroi seemed to get bored after a moment. Thus, she climbed up to Dick's shoulder again with her little claws; jumping up to the top of his head and mewled as if in ownership. Then, she began to knead his scalp playfully.

"Ah!" cried Dick with a small giggle, as little Kuroi played with his hair. He could feel her soft weight on his head and he smiled. He'd never really had a pet before. It was kind of nice. Well, Silkie certainly didn't count, even though he was sort of cute – in a squishy, oversized, mutant lava moth way. He let the kitten play with his wet hair while he grabbed a towel for himself, beginning to strip his soaking pants off. But he stopped as he shivered once; his nose tickling.

Then, he sneezed.

The little kitten flew off his head and, in the moment, Dick managed to catch Kuroi in his hands. Dick sniffled once; running a finger under his nose.

"Ugh, sorry, Kuro. I hope I don't get sick now. Dad'll kill me," said Dick with another sniffle, setting the kitten onto the sink countertop. She began to mewl constantly, watching him with bright blue eyes. He begin to strip out of his wet, freezing clothing; throwing the articles into the bathtub.

After toweling off, Dick quickly ran into his room to dress into some warm pajamas; sighing softly as the warmth began to fill him. He heard the kitten mewling cutely in the bathroom. Once he was fully dressed, he went back to the bathroom to see little Kuroi curled up on the sink; her eyes closed in sleepiness, still mewling for him.

Gently, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her with him. A moment later, he slipped under the heavy comforter of his bed, letting out a soft sigh of content as the warmth spread over him. He kept the kitten to his chest.

"You can sleep with me," said Dick, closing his eyes; exhaustion suddenly beginning to set in. As he slipped into sleep, his hand softly stroked the kitten's fur. He was feeling that same tiredness he had months ago when he'd gotten that cold.

However, it wasn't sickness that would plague his night, but a nightmare.

ooOOOOOoo

**April 18th, 2009. Saturday, 2:29 am.**

Exhaustion wasn't something Slade was used to experiencing. It just wasn't in his current physical makeup. Sure, he got tired and sleepy, needing sleep like any other mortal. But general deep exhaustion hadn't been something he had felt in years.

But it seemed that dealing with an overactive son who was the hero of a large and dangerous city was something that exhausted Slade's very core. Thus, he had fallen right asleep once his son was safely behind these walls. He was planning on having a _long_ talk with Dick in the morning about his negligence in coming home before his curfew. Yes, Slade understood that many of the crimes that the Teen Titans stopped occurred after hours, but Slade still wanted the boy at home, _safe_, and out of harm's way.

Slade just wasn't used to this new constant parental worry that he lived with daily. It was certainly disconcerting for him. It was so strange, to say the least. Ever since that day where he and Dick had gone on a mission together, Slade found that he worried and cared about the boy's safety on a whole different level than ever before. He felt so overly protective that he hourly had to reel back before he suffocated the boy.

And himself.

Change was strange.

After so many years of being stagnant, these new changes and adjustments in his life were certainly… interesting. It was a struggle, though. Slade felt at a loss some days, unsure as what to do with his time when it wasn't devoted to Dick. But he tried not to think about it too much at the moment. Slade could see that the boy relied on him heavily. He knew that Dick craved any and all affection that was offered to him, so Slade did his best to fulfill that need without seeming like a smothering mother.

Those bright blue eyes always did light up when he did so.

And that was more than enough to keep Slade going every day. He wasn't too worried about finding something to fill his free time. For now, he was going to enjoy his vacation time. Soon, he would go stir crazy, but for now he could enjoy his time with Dick, his son.

They needed time to fully adjust to their roles.

Unfortunately, Slade wasn't adjusting as well as Dick seemed to be. The boy had acted like a boy, running off into space without a care in the world; leaving Slade behind to wonder if his son had been kidnapped or killed or some other horrific thing that Slade's mind could concoct. _Three days!_ That _stupid_ boy had gone off into space for _three whole days_ without so much as a note or otherwise. Slade would've have been merely furious over the blasted child if he'd had the decency to leave a note; instead he was frantic with worry and later, _livid_.

But _no_, the boy left without any thought to his fretting, worrying, _dying_ father, who was extremely unused to such feelings.

It had taken _all_ of Slade's self control not to shake that boy until his brain rattled once he came home and was safe. He nearly took that boy over his knee right then and there – in front of his friends, no doubt – due to the worry that had eaten away at his heart. He couldn't believe that Dick had been so _thoughtless_.

But, of course, Dick was just unused to having a parent watch over his every move during his time as a hero, just like Slade was rusty at being a father. So, it seemed as if both had much to learn with this new phase of life.

Slade had just been thankful that Dick had been all right. No one knew that Slade Wilson was Deathstroke, but that didn't mean no one could find out. Slade was constantly on his guard for enemies that would try to tear his fledgling family apart. His previous family had been destroyed. But this time Slade would do his all to protect the fragile shards he had gathered.

His other son, Joey, would be arriving in June, along with Slade's daughter, Rose. He didn't want anything to destroy the small ray of renewal that had been bestowed upon the remaining members of his children. Time had been lost, but perhaps Slade could rebuild.

Rebuild he most certainly would do so – starting with Dick.

His youngest desperately needed him. Slade was glad for the time where just the two of them could acclimate. No matter what, Slade felt the responsibility of caring for Dick in everything that he needed – and Slade knew full well that the area that Dick needed him most was within the emotional realm. Dick could take care of himself, but he truly was a special, sensitive child and he greatly benefitted from emotional security.

Slade truly hoped that whatever the future held, he could continue to be that emotional security.

A muffed scream tore through Slade's sleep. Having fallen asleep a mere hour ago, Slade's mind was exceptionally groggy. A deep groan rumbled his throat as his eye flitted open.

Tired…

Middle of the night.

Scream.

Dick…

_Dick!_

Slade's eye snapped open. It took his remain energy to drag his dead weight body out of bed. He didn't bother to grab his robe, wearing only his pajamas pants. He was just too tired to even think any more. That child was giving him far too many sleepless nights.

Slade slowly walked to his door. Once there, he opened it. An instant later, something collided into his chest; arms wrapping around his waist tightly. The wind had been knocked out of Slade briefly and he had nearly lost his balance by the force.

He glanced down to see the trembling mop of raven black hair that was the head of his son. Slade sighed, placing a hand on the hair and stroking it gently.

"Dick?" questioned Slade. His voice was hoarse and he coughed once to clear it. In a smoother sound, he whispered, "Another nightmare?"

There was a soft nod inside Slade's chest; thin arms tightening once again. There came another sigh from Slade. He wondered what kind of nightmare plagued Dick tonight that could've caused such a clingy reaction. He normally wasn't like this after a nightmare, but Slade knew that Dick was still getting used to having a father again in his life. The child was taking every opportunity for Slade to show affection.

Yet another sigh escaped before Slade tried to extract the child away from his chest. There was a whimpering resistance to this. Slade slid his hands underneath Dick's arms and hoisted him up; gathering the small teen within his arms. The boy instantly responded by wrapping his arms around Slade's neck and burying his head in the nape there; his legs curling around Slade's waist. Slade's hand supported the boy's seat, as his other hand patted him on the back gently.

Slade had a deep feeling the boy wasn't going back to his room.

Slade glanced over at his bed. It had been a long time since a child had slept with him in the night. Grant hadn't done it often, but Joey and Rose had been regular visitors to Slade and Addie's bed. Joey, because he suffered from nightmares often as a child; and Rose, because she thought she owned the bed. It had actually been a problem for Slade and Addie that six days out of the week, they had a visitor in their bedroom.

It had been quite a few years since then…

Resigned to his fate, Slade let out yet another tired sigh and patted Dick's back again.

"Do you want to stay with me?"

There was a fast, frightened nod in Slade's neck. It seemed that Slade was plagued by exhaling a lot tonight. With a loving pat on the pajama clad bottom, Slade walked to the bed and lowered Dick down.

Except, the boy wouldn't let go.

"Dick, unhand me, if you please. I'm not going anywhere," said Slade, his tone tired. It took a minute, but very slowly, Dick began to release his hold around Slade's neck. Slade took that moment to set the boy onto the edge of the bed. He motioned for Dick to scoot over.

"Go on, get in," instructed Slade. The boy scooted backwards. Slade noticed that the boy's eyes were wide with worry and fear, but glazed over as if they weren't fully awake. Well, it was no wonder that Dick was clinging to him so much. Surely if Dick was fully awake, he'd think he was being too childish, would he not?"

But in some ways, Slade knew that after so many years of missing these soft moments, that Dick needed them more than ever.

And in a way… Slade wasn't begrudging them; perhaps even grateful for them – having lost time himself with his previous children.

As Slade settled beneath the covers, he felt Dick sidle next to him; curling beneath Slade's arm, which soon draped itself over the boy and pulled him closer.

"Dick, want to talk about it?"

There was a small shake of the head.

"_Horrible_," whispered Dick, before he seemed to burrow more deeply into the comforting side of Slade.

"What was?"

"…_Everything_."

The way Dick whispered that sent an unusual chill down Slade's spine – something he rarely ever experienced. He could feel the boy shivering next to him. Slade tucked the covers around Dick and continued to keep his arm curled over the boy's back. With his other hand, he gently stroked the messy mop of black hair.

"Everything will be all right, you'll see."

There was a soft exhale from the boy as the shivering slowly began to cease. Thus, it wasn't long before the two of them drifted to sleep; Dick in the protective arms of his father.

ooOOOOOoo

**April 18th, 2009. Saturday, 7:11 am.**

"_Richard Jonathan Grayson!_"

Slade groaned as yet another voice tore through his sleep, _again_. He growled deeply as he lifted a tired hand to his face and rubbed the fur that was growing slightly unruly on his chin – he would need to clean it up today. His arm dropped to the side to land on Dick's sleeping form that was still curled up into Slade's side. There was a brief moment where Slade had a private smile at his sleeping son.

"_Richard!_"

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy…" growled Slade, slowly sitting up. Dick moaned in his sleep and mumbled something about five more minutes; turning to the side. Slade gave the boy a swift swat to his seat, which caused him to yelp awake and turn back at Slade; giving him a petulant pout.

"What was that for? I was sleeping."

"As was I, but Will's going on about something and it has your name written all over it."

"Huh?—"

"_Richard Grayson_, where on this holy planet are you? You better show yourself, young man, before you're in _real_ trouble!"

Dick's eyes were now wide as he sat up.

"I didn't do it," said Dick automatically; looking thoroughly guilty.

"That remains to be seen, whatever _it_ is," smirked Slade.

"_Richard!_"

"_Oh_, for—_He's in here, Will!_" shouted Slade gruffly, standing up with an irritable, grumpy air. Dick crawled to the edge of the bed and let his legs dangle over the ledge.

He could remember bits and pieces of last night. He had come to Slade's room, seeking his father's comforting embrace. He had been so frightened by the nightmare. It had been his most terrible one yet.

Dick blushed after a moment, remembering what he had done.

He had clung to the man like a little baby! Dick rubbed his heating cheeks with his hands. He felt embarrassed, but there was another part of his heart that wished he could do it more often. How kind Slade had been to lift him up like a child and hold him close; as if saying, "No one can hurt you while you're safe in my arms."

And Slade had even let Dick sleep in his bed. It wasn't like the last nightmare either – Slade hadn't gone to bed that night. No, this time Slade actually let Dick sleep with him, cuddled at his side like any other father would when his child was frightened. It must have been a sacrifice, but luckily Dick wasn't a restless sleeper.

How many nights had Dick longed to do that after his parents had died? There had been too many nights where he had cried himself to sleep in loneliness and fear. As Dick watched Slade slowly walk to the door, he felt an urge to express his gratitude.

"Uh, Dad?"

Slade stopped and looked back at him; appearing slightly grumpy. But the man's expression softened as he watched the uncertainty that Dick couldn't help but display. He rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to word what he wanted to say to the man.

"Um… thanks for last night," said Dick shyly, dropping his arm back into his lap as he glanced at the man with thankful eyes. Slade's lips thinned slightly in a tiny, soft lift of a smile. He gave Dick a nod before he continued to the bedroom door; his body language appearing a little strengthened.

"_Rich—_"

The bedroom door swung open and Slade let out a feral growl.

"Would you _please_ stop your infernal _braying_, Will? _Some_ of us are trying to get some sleep after a wearisome night."

Wintergreen drew up on his full height, which was merely a few inches shorter than Slade; but because of Slade's current slouching, the old man came to be the same height.

"I apologize, but this cannot wait," said Wintergreen, his aged hazel eyes flashing dangerously. Dick couldn't help but know that wasn't a good sign. Slade mad at him was one thing. But it was a whole other frightening possibility when the old man was angry and Dick had this sinking feeling said anger was going to be directed towards him.

He was right.

The old man looked over Slade's shoulder and caught sight of Dick. He pointed at him and curled his finger towards himself in a stern beckon.

"Come here, young man."

"I didn't do it," said Dick again quickly, extremely wary now.

"_Get over here, now_."

Dick visibly gulped and slowly stood up. Even Slade looked a little wary at Wintergreen; appearing to be surprised by the old man's dangerous tone. Dick dragged his feet as he came to stand next to Slade; pressing himself against the man's side in case the old man decided to grab at him.

"Will, what on earth has you all worked up?"

"Come and see," answered Wintergreen. He turned away to walk down the hallway, but he paused for a brief second. A moment later, he sneezed spectacularly. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pant pocket and wiped his nose.

"Will?"

"Ugh, just allergies," replied Wintergreen, sounding congested; sniffling a few times. "Come on now."

The two of them followed the old man down the hallway. Wintergreen stopped in front of Dick's room. He turned a very stern glare onto Dick, making him squirm under the look. He tried to look as innocent as he possibly could.

"This is what has me 'all worked up', as you say, Slade," said Wintergreen, his tone suggestive. The old man opened the door and Dick paused, his jaw dropping.

"_Whoa_…"

Feathers.

_Everywhere_.

There were white, fluffy feathers floating everywhere in the room. It looked like snow had freshly fallen inside Dick's room. Dick's eyes quickly shot towards his bed; trying to see if the kitten was still there. His pillow had been tore open; the feathers pawed out by a – _no doubt_ – very mischievous kitten.

But said kitten wasn't anywhere in sight.

"Good—_grief_, what on _earth_ happened in here?" asked Slade, his jaw dropping in astonishment. Wintergreen folded his arms and stared down at Dick.

"That's what _I'd_ like to know."

Dick glanced between the two men who were staring at him for answers.

"Hey, don't look at me!" protested Dick. "I didn't do this. I was with Dad last night."

Wintergreen opened his mouth to speak, but only another deep sneeze escaped from the old man. Seconds later, he was plagued with another right after. He blew his nose; sighing a deep, complaining moan afterwards. There was another sniffle.

"Is it allergy season already?" asked Slade; placing a hand on the old man's back and rubbing it slightly.

"Ugh, but I took something for that. Not sure what is causing this."

"Is it the feathers?"

"No, not at all."

Wintergreen blew his nose again after he sneezed once more; wiping it afterwards. He put the handkerchief away into his back pocket when he paused for a moment; looking over Slade's appearance.

"Slade, put a shirt on," admonished Wintergreen, putting his hands on his hips. Slade glowered at the old man.

"I was _sleeping_ before I was _rudely_ awakened by _your_ screeching, old man!"

"You're lucky I just finished your laundry."

"I'm going back to bed," growled Slade, inhaling with a deeply annoyed air as he glared at the old man. He motioned to the feather filled room. "Dick, clean this up."

"Yes, sir," nodded Dick, his eyes searching frantically for a small furball of black in the midst of all the white.

"_Good night_. Do _not_ disturb me."

There was a moment where Wintergreen watched Slade walk back to his room. Then, he turned his aged, stern stare onto Dick and pointed towards the messy room.

"You're to clean this up and I don't want to see _one_ feather out of place. Am I clear?"

Dick nodded. "Yes, sir."

He received a gentle pat on the cheek before the old man left the room. There was another responding sneeze just as the door closed behind him. Immediately, Dick glanced around the room as he bit his lip; trying to find little Kuroi in the puff of feathers. He walked to his bathroom and stopped, shocked, to see the toilet paper completely unrolled and shredded into pieces. Dick groaned. That kitten sure was a mischievous little thing. Dick crouched and began to clean up the mess created by the little missing furball. She couldn't have left his room, right?

Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the images that haunted his dreams last night. He gasped suddenly and clasped a hand over his mouth as he began to dry heave. Nothing came up, but for a moment, Dick kept his head bent over the bowl of the toilet just in case. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to escape the horrific images that viciously assaulted his mind.

He couldn't imagine ever having such a nightmare before. It wasn't like the usual ones that afflicted him in the night. This wasn't a nightmare about his parents nor was it a nightmare about the Joker. It wasn't a nightmare about past injuries nor was it a nightmare manifesting his fears.

No, it was way worse.

There was no way he had ever seen something like it before. He avoided such movies. He didn't like those types of horror movies nor did he ever play those kinds of video games like this before – even though he knew they existed. He loved action and adventure, but never horror.

And that's exactly what his nightmare entailed.

But it was more than that. It felt so much worse than just a little nightmare; something more than just a cruel night terror to rob him of his sleep and mental safety. Even his dreams about his parents dying didn't even touch the surface of reality that this dream held. It felt _so real_. He could feel the terrible fire burning across the landscape. He could _feel_ its intensity. It was like a war field; the most awful landscape of devastation and carnage – just like the ones that Slade had described while in the service during the Vietnam War. The sky was an ominous red; a fiery red of death and destruction beyond anything Dick had ever seen.

And the most terrifying thing about it all – he was alone.

He tried his best. He tried ever so hard to push those horrific thoughts away, but it just seemed so terrible. It was too real and that's what frightened him. His dream seemed so much like…

Like an apocalypse.

Like the end of the world.

But that was stupid. The world wasn't going to _end_. Surely his mother wouldn't have gone to all that trouble to watch over him, only for the world to end mere months after he finally had someone to rely on. That would seem like the cruelest thing that could ever happen; the cruelest of all jokes.

It was just a bad dream; a nightmare of the mind.

That was all.

That's _all_ it had to be.

Dick stood up and walked back into his bedroom. He set himself to the difficult task of gathering up all the loose feathers that were scattering throughout the floor. Dick kept his mind clear, trying everything to keep the dream away from his thoughts. He wasn't going to dwell on it. Ignoring it was the only way to retain his sanity. He wasn't going to tell Slade about it. There was no reason to do so.

"_Dick!_"

The owner of said name winced at the frightening tone of his father. He looked up at his closed door. A moment later, Slade strode into the room; the door clattering to the wall in the man's stern hurry.

"What is _this?_" demanded Slade in a dangerously soft tone; holding up the little black kitten by the scruff of the neck. There was a protesting mewl and the wiggle of hind legs.

_Uh, oh… busted…_

"That's a kitten, sir," tried Dick. There was another mewl.

"_Apparently_," drawled Slade, his grey blue eye flashing once with a stern light. "What was it doing in my room, _in my bed?_"

"Um… sleeping?"

Slade growled and lowered his hand; still holding onto the kitten, who continued to mewl in protest.

"How did it get _into_ my home? Explain yourself, _now_."

Dick gulped slightly and nodded in agreement. Slade didn't look too happy at the moment. It was sort of comical if it hadn't been a tad scary as well. The man obviously didn't realize he was still without his shirt – only in his pajama pants – nor the fact that his hair was disheveled. He truly looked exhausted, something Dick hadn't ever seen to this extreme from the man. It was enlightening to see such a human side to the man who, much of the time, appeared immaculate.

It also worried Dick.

"I brought the kitten here last night, sir," said Dick. "She actually fell on top of my head. So, I brought Kuroi home."

"Coo… Roy?"

"That's her name."

"_Oh_…" groaned Slade, swiping his free hand over his face. "Dick, you named this thing? Don't _name_ it… You can't keep it. Will's _allergic_. Hence, his nonstop sneezing."

Dick stood up and took the kitten away from Slade. She mewled again loudly as Dick held her up to his face and blinked his bright blue eyes at the man; giving his best pout yet. There was another mewl.

"But how can you resist this face?" asked Dick, his crystal eyes wide as the kitten pawed his cheek. Slade's eyebrow twitched before he sent a stern glower on him.

"Oh, no, you don't. Don't you dare do that to me."

"Do what?" blinked Dick innocently.

"_That_," growled Slade. "Don't you dare start with those blasted eyes."

"So, you _are_ weak against them," smirked Dick in triumph, lowering the kitten from his face and cuddling her in his arms. Slade's grey blue eye widened briefly before it narrowed at Dick. There wasn't a moment to consider because a mere second passed before Dick was held in Slade's grasp by the ear. He winced as Slade pulled him closer. The man bent down to Dick's other ear. The dark whisper that left Slade's voice fluttered over his skin; sending a chill down his spine.

"If I discover that you've taken advantage of this little… _limitation_ of mine, no amount of blinking those pretty eyes of yours will save you from certain… _retribution_."

Dick was released and he tried his best to look innocent and sheepish at the same time.

"Now, get rid of that thing," said Slade, waving a hand at the kitten. "Keep it at the tower if you must."

"Aw, but Silkie will probably eat her," pouted Dick, stroking the mewling kitten's fur.

"Silkie? What's a Silkie?"

"Not what, _who_," chided Dick with a smirk. "It's a mutant lava moth that Beast Boy kept, but who's now Starfire's… Bumgorf, I believe she calls it."

"Mutant… lava… moth…" repeated Slade, his eye narrowing as he mulled over those words. Then, his eye widened as he glared down at Dick with a raised eyebrow. "You have one of those mutant moths in the tower?! One of those nasty things that nearly ate the entire city in _one night!?_"

"Uh…" began Dick uncertainly, seeing the obvious new anger coming from Slade. "_Maybe…?_"

There was an exaggerated groan.

"Dick, how on earth am I supposed to protect you when you allow the enemy to come into your very home?" scolded Slade, putting his hands on his hips as he glared at Dick.

"But Silkie isn't the enemy!" protested Dick. The kitten mewled again, wiggling inside Dick's arms.

"Oh, _please_."

"Honestly!" cried Dick. "Okay, _yeah_, he did kind of, _sort of_, eat half the tower, but that was only because Starfire just _had_ to feed him some of her alien berries."

Slade's eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not sure I even want to ask…"

"Silkie is very tame. I was just worried that since he ate everything else, he might try to eat a kitten."

"Obviously," drawled Slade. "Since that's the most _common_ food there is on the planet."

"_Dad_."

"Go on, boy."

"Well, I had to bring her here. I didn't want to leave her at the tower and abandon her. Can't Kuroi stay?" Dick widened his eyes and pulled another pout. "Please? _Pretty please?_"

"Dick—" Slade broke off into a deep, weary exhale; dropping his face into his hands briefly. Then, he lifted his face. "Dick, you can't keep that kitten here. Will is allergic to cats, dander especially. I'm sure you can figure out where to keep the kitten in the tower without it getting eaten by mutant lavas. But it can't stay here. I'm sorry; it just can't."

Dick bit his lip and nodded sadly; stroking the purring, mewling kitten for a moment. Slade seemed a little relieved that he didn't argue the subject anymore. The man just looked tired at him; a stern tired, but it was more than obvious that the man was exhausted. But Dick couldn't understand why. It wasn't like he was doing more – he wasn't; he no longer had any contracts. His fulltime job was being a father.

Did that mean…

An icy wave settled in the pit of Dick's stomach. He carefully observed Slade for a moment, who was running a hand through his hair and trying to fix it. The man looked down and sighed once he saw his shirtless chest. His hand ran over his face as another sigh left him.

"Dad…" began Dick in a soft whisper. The hand lifted away to reveal Slade's drained, questioning expression.

"Yes, Dick?"

"Are you… Are you all right? You look kind of… ragged; exhausted even."

There was another sigh.

"I am… a bit tried, yes," admitted Slade with a light nod. Dick hugged the kitten closer to his chest and lowered his head.

"It's because of me, isn't it?"

"…_What?_"

"I'm exhausting you. This never happened before when you didn't have to be a father to me. When you were just Slade… things were easier, weren't they?"

Dick refused to look up at the man. It seemed as if his heart could never fully settle, could it? Why did it seem as if the fragile lifestyle that he currently had could shatter away in an instant? He definitely felt secure, but there sometimes was a nagging little voice in the back of his mind that whispered darkly, _"It didn't last before, what makes you think it'll last now?"_

Why did it seem as if everything could come crashing down in a single swift moment?

"Oh, Dick," murmured Slade. A hand touched Dick's shoulder before he was pulled into a crushing hug. "_You silly child_."

The kitten mewled in protest at being squished between them. She wiggled out of Dick's arms and jumped to the floor, where she continued to mewl at them; rubbing up against Dick's legs. With his arms free, Dick wrapped them around Slade's waist and held onto the man tightly.

_Warm… so warm…_

"Yes, it's true," whispered Slade. "You do cause me some exhaustion that I wasn't counting on."

Dick stiffened in the man's arms.

"Let me finish," chided Slade as Dick tried to remove himself from the hug, but couldn't as the man held him tight. "I wasn't counting on worrying about you all the time. I always think about you, wondering if you're all right, wondering if you're okay, wondering if you need anything. Let's just say, I'm out of practice; but even then, I wasn't this involved with my first children."

Slade withdrew from the hug and enveloped Dick's cheeks with his hands; forcing him to look up at the man.

"I promised myself I would do better this time around with you. I am unused to it, but I will learn."

Dick's lips trembled slightly as his eyes began to burn.

"So, I might get a little tired worrying about you, but that's my job now. _And I want that_."

A single tear slipped over Dick's cheek. Slade smiled gently at him; wiping away the tear with his thumb.

"You are loved too much to be thought of as a mere troublesome thing in my life. You are my son."

"You'll love me no matter what?" whispered Dick.

"Of course."

"Even if I exhaust you?"

"Even then," answered Slade with another smile.

"Even if I am the most disobedient and troublesome kid?"

There was a wry lift of an eyebrow; an almost mischievous smirk filling the man's face.

"_Even then_, but you know I can rectify _that_ kind of trouble."

"What if… what if…" Dick trailed off as the imagery of his past dream flashed before his vision. "What if… the world ended? Even then?" asked Dick, biting his lower lip and looking up at Slade with soft eyes; needing every drop of reassurance; soaking up every word that Slade, his father, offered him – even though a part of his heart trusted and believed without such things. But sometimes words were powerful creatures to bring the most comforting of all hopes and assurances.

And those horrible images were still plaguing him; haunting him in their taunts.

There was a gentle chuckle. Dick was pulled into another soft, enveloping embrace; the man's strong arms wrapping themselves around his small frame. Dick returned the hug, clinging to the man's skin with every fiber of his soul; thankful that he wasn't alone any more; thankful that he once again had a father to rely on.

And then, everything seemed all right.

"Even if the world ended, I'll still love you, you silly child."

ooOOOOOoo

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Are one shots supposed to be this long? XD Yare, yare…

I should not write to dramatic movie music. (Radius by Hi-Finesse) It gives me far too many intense, deeply imbedded plots to play with. LOL. Thus, the intense nightmare…

Any one shots that I have will take place in between _Forgotten Bonds_ and _Into the Depths_. I'll be sure to allude to the plot of the next story in each of these. :3 I've been drawing the Teen Titans and plan to draw everyone that appeared in the novel. (Probably not Batman. XD) So, check out my DA account, Alianoira, if you want to watch the progress of that.

Again, I apologize for hiatuses. Trying… really trying… Aha.

How about a few hints about the sequel to keep you, my friends, going? Something about a ton of father/son drama with plenty of fluff; quite a bit of sibling fun between Dickie, Rose (her nickname for him is 'Dickiebird'), and Joey; a major plot dealing with more than just relationships; plaguing nightmares; the veil to the spirit world thinned; and of course, a new Titan.

I'll always keep writing. Thanks for reading! Lots of hugs and love to go around!

_Anthy_


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